


Morn's Guiding Light

by Mary_Rhapsodos



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (That's actually very accurate), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Astrals and Stuff, Emotional Hurt, End-Game Spoiler, Eos's Backstory (Fan Theory), Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, I love this theory so much I had to write a fic around it and it turned out to be a fix it, M/M, Not Beta Read, Post-Canon, Sadness, Trying to Cope, magical beings, reference to major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2018-12-06 02:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11590662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mary_Rhapsodos/pseuds/Mary_Rhapsodos
Summary: With the Starscourge defeated and the dawn returned, the astrals vanished from Eos. The world they left behind is slowly recovering from the ruin and sadness of the darkness. With their king dead, Prompto, Gladio and Ignis had to find other purposes in life and settle into the world that Noctis had sacrificed everything for. For five years, they helped rid the lands of the dwindling numbers of daemons and rebuild towns and outposts all over the planet, but the sadness and hurt sits deeply within the youngest member of their group.Now, that most of the daemons have been eradicated, Prompto finds time to properly mourn and honour his deceased best friend and travel the places they visited during their quests again. The Disk of Cauthess is his first destination, but there, he finds more than molten lava and cold stones.AKA: A post-canon Fix It that contains a lot of crying and hurting and sadness, but I swear it's worth in the end!(Please note that this story contains end-game spoilers. Play the game and have your heart broken, people!)





	1. After the End of the World

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there everybody.  
> So, this story has been brewing in my head (and Mac Book) for a couple of months, but I have been hesistant to post parts of it because I'm notoriously bad at finishing stories. At the moment, this story has about 27,000 words on roughly 40 Word pages and I've reached a point where I might, might not end it. But well, let's see how and if you like it :D
> 
> Long story short -> It's basically finished, but I'm not opposed to writing more. (especially because there's no smut, I haven't written smut for agessssss).
> 
> So, content. Well. Basically I still try to cope with the FFXV game which has devastated me super hard and I'm like... I cannot even listen to songs from it (I have the whole soundtrack on my computer thank you very much AIMP for playing it all the time) without another heartbreak. I needed a story to fix that. And while there are already so many awesome stories out there, I needed one that fixed everything AFTER the end. Well, so I wrote my own.  
> Plus, have you seen this brilliant fan theory about Eos and the crystal and Ifrit? I love it, well parts of it. Some things are not really comprehensive but overall I like the idea. I picked parts from it and put them into this story, but only minor things, so if you wanna see the whole theory, here you go: https://www.reddit.com/r/FFXV/comments/5t367b/pitioss_ruins_revelations/  
> It's beautiful and super interesting and I liked it a lot more than... well the canon backstory that was like "well... this is the setting you are in". Thank you very much, that was very helpful.
> 
> Anyhow, I still cannot play the game and any added content because I'm in tears as soon as I hear the Somnus intro (or any other song for that matter) so I spent my time working, raging on League of Legends and writing this beast. 
> 
> I hope you like this story! Also, I'll add more tags as we get on with the story and probably the rating will change at some point. Until then, I'll leave it like that!
> 
> 08/22/2017: Fixed some overly long paragraphs as [Fiction_Over_Fact](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiction_Over_Fact/pseuds/Fiction_Over_Fact) pointed out to me. Thanks again!

The dawn is soft, like a whisper of creeping rays that slowly engulfs all. A light breeze flows over the vast fields in front of him, up the hill where he set up camp to watch the sun rise for another day. Birds are already flying about, chirping happily to greet the new day with vigour and song. In the distance, Prompto can see a catoblepas roaming over the narrow riverside in search of food, while some garulas graze peacefully nearby. His faithful camera is a comforting weight around his neck yet again and even after all this time, it still feels right to carry it around. Even after all these years that he has not touched it because the wounds were too deep and hurt was still too fresh. 

Fifteen years. The words are hollow when he thinks or speaks them. How time sped away from him, like fine sand through his bare hands; no matter how much he tries to hold on to it, it will always run from him. It feels like a whole lifetime ago that he stood in front of King Regis Lucis Caelum XCIII, Noctis’s father, to be send on a mission to bring peace for Lucis, a peace it sorely needed. 

He still remembers feeling nervous and giddy before the king. Sometimes, Prompto still wonders whether Noctis has ever known another side of his father, other than the grave and distant one he presented in front of an audience. Prompto remembers turning around, waiting for Noctis to descend the stairs, only to see him talking to his father for the last time, the Citadel behind them, looming, strong, and beautiful in all its glory; he remembers the tension in Noctis’s shoulders, and even though he could not see his face then, he can picture it perfectly, even now. It is as if his mind has taken a detailed picture of the moment, capturing everything and burning it into his retina. He recalls sitting in the Regalia, leaving the city that was their home, feeling excited and anxious of the weeks to come. He recalls Noctis’s face, a deep frown set on his brow, staring out of the window for most of the ride. 

After that, a lot of memories bleed into each other and sometimes he fails to arrange them correctly, even when looking at his vast collection of pictures. Hammerhead, Cid, and Cindy, the chocobo ranch and the behemoth, Galdin Quay, Ardyn, the fall of Insomnia, the Royal Arms, Lestallum, Iris, the Disk and Titan, then Ramuh, Altissia, Leviathan. Losing Luna, almost losing Noctis and Ignis as well. The journey to Niflheim, his capture, then a lot of nothing. In his dreams, he still remembers Gralea vividly, a terrifying, contorted structure that haunts him from time to time. Finally, losing Noctis to the crystal, only to get him back after ten years, just to lose him again. This time for forever. Prompto tries not to think about that too much throughout the day and most days he is too dead on his feet and too damn tired to think about it in the evenings as well. At least, he was, for the last five years.

After the sun had risen again, the daemon numbers dwindled and the people could push them back. With Noctis gone, Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto helped rebuild towns, streets, farms and outposts and, wherever they were needed, also lend a hand or two. Prompto kept to killing the remaining daemons, first in the larger, destroyed cities like Insomnia, Tenebrae, and Gralea, later in the smaller towns throughout Lucis, Accordo and Niflheim. It kept him busy for over five years; five years of being barely able to tell the ache of overused muscles apart from injuries, five years of watching the sun rise and hoping it was not all a dream, five years of praying for Noctis’s miraculous return from the dead – again -, only to be disappointed with every new day, five years of constant fighting to not lose himself, only to lose himself in the fight and almost lose his life countless times along the way. 

He is better now, more settled perhaps. The fight with the mindflayer that almost killed him four weeks ago showed him that he was pushing himself too hard. Where in the beginning he was too lost to appreciate Noctis’s sacrifice, he is now able to honour it. When recovering in the hospital in Lestallum, he tried to think of a way to finally pay his friend the respect he deserved. He came up blank then, too caught up in his own head that he did not see what was right in front of him. He knows now, with a glance to his camera, he knows again. He has their whole lives, a book of pictures and moments and emotions that he does not dare to share with anyone, not even with Gladio or Ignis or Iris. It is all there, on memory cards upon memory cards that contain their time spent together and tell a tale that is both beautiful and sad.

It still hurts. It hurts so bad that he is paralysed sometimes, despairing without any idea how to proceed from here. The first days after cleaning out Insomnia before journeying to Gralea were the worst. He does not like to remember that time anymore and by some miracle he got out of that mood on his own. 

A bird settles into the grass next to him, pecking the ground for food, while puffing up its feathers as the first sunrays hit them. It is getting warm, now that Prompto is also engulfed by light. He watches the bird for a spell, watches how it hops about before departing with quick flaps of its wings. It chirps as it takes off and he cannot help but smile, turning to watch the sun again, that has now claimed all lands around him. It is still marvellous to experience, this dawn. Every evening, a deeply rooted fear rears its head, doubt gnawing at him; is this it? Will this be the last day? It never is. The eternal night has been conquered for good, it seems. 

In the distance, he can already make out his destination. The Disk of Cauthess is still burning as brightly as ever. The region around it settled once Titan was defeated, no more earthquakes and headaches. The pictures he took there fifteen years ago were somewhat blurry and oddly angled, shot while fighting for their lives and protecting their future king. He wants to right that wrong, Cauthess is too magnificent a place to not capture its beauty. 

Nowadays, the Disk is a popular tourist attraction, safe now that the Archaean does not reside there anymore. In fact, after the battle at the Citadel and Noctis’s sacrifice, the astrals vanished. There is nobody, who might know of their whereabouts; no oracle to refer to, no messengers to question. During the darkness and the years after, faith in them waned and if they are bothered by it, there have been no signs. 

Prompto wonders about them often, sometimes he blames them for losing his best friend. After all, it was them, who demanded Noctis’s sacrifice in order to rid the world of the Starscourge. He succeeded, he rescued them all at the price of his own life, for higher beings that called themselves gods, but were powerless to do anything about the evil plaguing the planet they were sworn to protect. As with many things, Prompto tries not to dwell on it too much; it never changes anything what he thinks about the astrals, their grand schemes, or the way of the world. It keeps turning and time keeps passing, no matter what he wants.

∞

The sun is almost completely up, when he reaches Cauthess. The scenery is eerie and quiet, only the rumbling of the rocks and lava below fill the silence around him. No animals or bugs roam about, as if they still shun this place that was home to one of the astrals. It is as hot as Prompto remembers it, making him sweat in his shirt as he makes his way to the platform, where they fought all those years ago. Where they stood tall and together, where Noctis proved himself to the first of the gods, showed him he was worthy of his blessing, and ready to give everything to save his home, his land, his people. 

The sun is reaching even here, now. Gone is the giant that growled at them, gone are the magitek troopers that kept raining from the skies. He takes pictures of it then. The burning meteor, the formation of rocks that once was a battlefield, the depth where lava is bubbling and brewing. They are good, well shot, the lighting is fine, and the motifs are beautiful in themselves. People keep telling him he has a good eye for photography, knows what will make a perfect picture by just seeing it. Prompto doubts them, while telling them thanks for the compliments and laughing embarrassedly. His pictures live with the moment they convey and even though these are beautiful, they do not hold the meaning the blurry ones do. 

His stomach drops with the realisation, his eyes hurt from tears unshed, tears he does not want to cry anymore because. It. Does. Not. Change. A. Thing. He gulps them down heavily, clutching his camera and staring down at the picture of the meteor, burning and bright. It seems alive, like the real thing that is right next to him. It is still not enough, he is not enough, not without Noctis, who always made him whole, who knew how to treat him, what to tell him, and how to make him laugh. Prompto is so sick of people tiptoeing around him, trying not to say the wrong things and take his mind off of things that will never not be on his mind. It is why he chose to distance himself from them, why he chose to fight instead of settling down and building a new life for himself in Insomnia, like Gladio or Ignis did. A shaky sigh escapes his lips and he throws his head so fast into his neck that the bones there crack loudly. He does not care as he stares into the endlessness that is the blue, blue sky above him. 

“Prompto.” 

He whips around at the voice, gazing frantically about, but there is nothing. Only a vast emptiness that mirrors the one in his heart and soul. Perhaps he is slowly but surely going mad, hearing voices and losing himself in wallowing on the battlefields of old. He laughs, a breathless and hollow sound, and the noise fills the whole space around him. Something shuffles next to him, then nudges at his foot. It does not even scare him anymore, he is too used to surprises, mostly bad ones. When nothing happens immediately afterwards, he risks a glance. 

What he sees, is not what he expected the least. There, down at his feet, sits a dog, a familiar one. All white, except for matching light grey strikes around the deep azure eyes that stare up at him in a way he has almost forgotten. Prompto’s throat closes just like that and for a moment he is not sure how to react. This animal, this living, breathing being, is not supposed to be here. It – _she_ , he reminds himself – died together with the world he knew and loved. She does not have a place here in this immense loneliness; she is a messenger of not necessarily better, but happier days. Days, when he still knew how to laugh and live and fight for a vision, a dream. She yips softly, nudges his booted left foot again as if to tell him hello.

Prompto drops to his knees then, uncaring of the dirt on the ground or the pain that shoots up his legs at the motion. His hands come up shakily as if they do not know how to treat her anymore. This dog, who was his for a day once upon a lifetime ago, a day that changed his life for the best.

“Chibi.” he breathes out, a rushed, quiet sound like he is afraid to speak too loudly or the dream will fade. It sticks, however, as Pryna barks happily, all but tackling him and licking all over his sunburned and dirtied face with all the vigour of a beloved dog. Prompto laughs, overjoyed and carefree, feeling about ten times lighter and fifteen years younger as he cuddles and scratches and hugs her. She is as wriggly and squirmy as he remembers her, full of eagerness and glee over seeing him again and Prompto cannot help but feel the same. For the moment, he does not care where she comes from or why she is not dead as all the others are. He just cares about the fact that she seems to be here, temporarily curing his hurt, regret, anger, and despair with her mere presence.

∞

Together, they make their way back from the Disk to his camp up north. It is a little far off, about two hours of walking, but it is their old spot and he did not dare to set up his tent anywhere else. It is different now, camping all alone, without Ignis’s cooking, Gladio’s jibes, or Noct asleep in the middle of a conversation that does not occur anymore. Now, there is only him and the crackling fire that he stares into for hours before falling asleep exhausted, both emotionally and physically. With Pryna around, the day and evening seem lighter than they did before. He breathes more easily than he has in years, seeing her bumbling about, sniffing the tent and the remains of the fire from last night, barking into the approaching night as if to scare away the darkness. He laughs and thinks she is succeeding in her quest to banish the gloom because this night, he only sees the moon and the stars instead of the stretching shadows.

Prompto talks to Pryna for hours. They sit by the fire and she seems to listen avidly now that there is nothing to bark at and that he is talking to her. Her posture is alert and her eyes are fixed on him, her head is tilted to the side and her ears are straight, turned towards him. He has her full attention and feels like she can understand his every word; she may as well be, she used to be a Messenger after all, maybe still is. He talks about all the time he thinks she has missed. Lunafreya’s death by the hands of the accursed, Leviathan’s defeat, Ignis losing his sight and Noctis being gravely injured, their journey to Niflheim and the strain on their friend- and companionship, the hurt of Noctis’s supposed betrayal and Prompto’s fall from the train on their way to Tenebrae, Luna’s home. The blonde is faltering repeatedly through his narrative of what happened after getting separated from his friends, horror and hurt still too interwoven with the memories to tell them emotionlessly. Pryna does not seem to care, she merely lays her head across his knees, blinking up at him with trustful eyes that give him more support than any words before. 

He tells her how Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis came to rescue him from Ardyn in Gralea, when he thought he would die soon and how they all liberated Ravus, who had been consumed by the Starscourge and used by Ardyn; how they bought Noct time to get to the crystal, their salvation so close and beautiful, only to be crushed, when their king vanished into the very object that should have saved them all. He tells her about the time after that, the endless nights and fights, the despair and death and destruction Ardyn wrought upon the world in the ten years that it took the crystal to finally set the king of kings free. 

He speaks of Noctis’s return with tears shining brightly in his eyes as he remembers how he felt that day, relief and happiness and hope – hope for the first time in ten long, long years. It is gone by the time he is done talking about the fight in Insomnia, Noctis telling them how exactly he would have to save the world. Pryna whines as he cries and hiccups through the rest of the tale, how they found their king’s, no, their friend’s lifeless body, while the sun rose again and ended the ten-year darkness, banishing a large portion of the daemons. How they had to bury their brother, who had given his life for all of them without asking anything in return.

∞

Prompto does not remember falling asleep and, judging by the pain in his neck and back, he did not sleep in an overly comfortable position. Pryna is next to him, already awake, but close and cuddly, when his eyes sleepily blink about and he tries to get his wits back together. Her cold, wet nose nudges again his cheek in a friendly greeting and she yips softly, her way of wishing him a good morning, he presumes.

“Mornin’, Chibi.” he replies and treats her a couple of long ruffles that end in a play fight between them. It is the happiest he has gone to bed and awoken in a long time. Now, when faced with a new dawn and the rising sun, he cannot help but question his luck and the way of things. 

Her timing is odd; or perhaps it is not. The moment he tries to come to terms with what has happened, but fails because there is nothing to come to terms to, nothing to forget and get over. It is all still there, still raw; a vast empty space that Noctis left behind, a gaping black hole right inside his chest and some days, he stares at his wrists and thinks, _Is this it? Am I finally turning into a daemon?_. The sun proves him wrong, it never dusts him like it did the daemons. But with her here, the book he tried to close, is wide open yet again, unwritten pages right in front of him. Hope rears its head inside of him.

“Why are you here, Pryna?” he asks quietly, afraid her form will vanish if he speaks the thought too loudly. Pryna looks at him with intelligent eyes, unblinking and unmoving, before shuffling over to his camera. She takes the worn leather straps into her mouth, careful with her sharp canines and of the fragile cargo she is carrying, and brings it to him. Prompto takes it, confused for a spell. Pryna nudges his fingers where she wants them. Gallery and then back, back, back, back, way back, past the new pictures, past the ones he took of the night and Insomnia in all its fallen and decaying glory, past the ones of Gralea and Niflheim, past Altissia, Cape Caem and further back, until she stops at one of the pictures he took for Vyv. It shows the top of Mount Ravatogh, the burning cave entrance surrounded by glowing stones and lava, hot, dangerous, and eternal. Vyv’s _finest view in all of creation_. 

Pryna gives him a moment, then barks sharply, her eyes never leaving the picture. Prompto squints at her, unsure of her demand. There is a moment of prolonged silence, during which he studies her, while she is transfixed on the photograph, before she barks yet again, louder this time, and hightails to the edge of the camp, her fluffy tail wagging carelessly behind her. She turns again, looking at him expectantly, barking short, excited sounds. In the distance, Prompto sees the Rock of Ravatogh, so aesthetic and glorious, its molten tendrils reaching up into the sky like they reach out for it, and suddenly, he is sure; this is where she wants him to go.


	2. The Ascent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks!
> 
> First of all, thank you for your comments and kudos and bookmarks and generally all the love you have been giving this story. You are the best! 
> 
> In celebration of you all, have a new chapter :) This one contains tidbits of the fan theory I mentioned, but also some stuff that I made up to fit this story. I hope it's still comprehensive. Also, it got super long, oh well.
> 
> Hope you like this chapter as well :)

It takes them three days to get to Mount Ravatogh. Progress by foot is slow and hardly any cars that could take them along cross their path. A nice woman in her late forties with curly brown hair and an easy smile takes them the rest of the way to Verinas Mart, the town at the foot of the giant mountain. Where there once were only a few housings, destroyed during the ten years of darkness, there is now a prosperous, growing town, living off mostly tourism and hunting. A lot has changed since he was last here, Prompto notices. The houses look sturdier now, most of them newly built; the caravan is gone in favour of a small motel and a café that is serving a few customers, who are enjoying the sun and the beauty of the nearby tourist attraction.

He pays for a room at the motel, after stocking up on some food for both Pryna and himself. They spend the rest of the waning day on the small balcony situated towards the Rock of Ravatogh. He never took time to truly appreciate the view, not even when they were hunting for good photography spots for Vyv. Now though, he does and there are small things he notices. 

The tops of Ravatogh are not looming anymore; they are certainly still imposing and vast, like massive glowing vines twisting and turning into the air, grasping for the darkening, endless sky. Gusts of hot air travel through Verinas Mart ever so often when the wind blows down from the mountain peaks, proof that the volcano is still active. But the air is clear now, not dark and dreary, not laden with dust and particles, but fresh. Fauna and flora are now expanding towards the town from the Ravatoghan Trail and Hulldagh Pixe. Verinas Mart, overall, looks less sad, Prompto feels, less depressing and ominous. It is not a somewhat rundown town anymore, but blooming with life of all forms. It is heartening to watch.

They eat their food outside, a tomato and egg stir-fry for Prompto, which will never even remotely reach the level of Ignis’s recipe, and some moist dog food for Pryna, which she insisted on, loudly, repeatedly until Prompto bought it. The white dog is now happily munching away, sitting next to him on the floor of their tiny, wooden balcony. Two chairs and the table stand forgotten off to the side. 

The sun sets behind the Rock and Prompto is surprised that the terror of the night does not grip him as tightly as it normally does, even though he does not talk the evening away, but rather enjoys their ravenous silence and the view that surrounds them. Many people have gathered on the streets and in the small cafés to capture the sunset behind Ravatogh, a popular image now that people have time for art and fun again. He listens to their chatter without really listening to it, just background sounds that he does not know he missed during his self-imposed isolation. 

He is awkward around people, but he likes their presence, likes to listen to them and likes to seem them laugh. It gives him a sense of belonging to something, even without being a real part of it. It is nice, for a change. Pryna is in no hurry once she is done devouring her food and flops down across his lap in a warm ball of fur and softness to nap the dying daylight away. Prompto is more than fine with it; the idle, excited chatter of the people below, the beautiful scenery and a company that, for once, does not bother him at all.

∞

The blonde awakes, when the night has already enveloped the town and people have retired to their motel rooms or homes. The muscles in his neck ache from the uncomfortable position he has fallen asleep in and the nerves in his back shoot warning signals up his spin as he tries to sit up. He groans, blearily blinking about in the dimness surrounding him. All of the shops and cafés are closed for the night and only a few streetlamps offer some light for whatever soul is still awake at this time of the night. A quick, practised grab for his phone confirms his suspicion that it is late into the night, just past 3 o’clock. The air is still warm despite the hour and pleasantly temperate winds blow into his face every now and then. It is most likely the only reason he is not freezing and shivering right now.

Prompto gets up from the ground with a groan and stretches, his joint creaking as he does so, but it works out the discomfort and stiffness to some extent. He should know better than this, especially since surviving for five years out in the wilds, but the concept of self-preservation has always been foreign enough to him to not bother. He steps into the small motel room, only to find Pryna curled up on the dingy couch, sleepily eying him and yipping softly in greeting, before she yawns widely and stretches on her – much more comfortable – resting place. Prompto regards her fondly and shakes his head as he turns towards the tiny kitchenette that is nestled into the corner of the room. 

The fridge is sparsely stocked, mostly with bottles of water, one of which he grabs to quench the thirst that makes his mouth dry and his head hurt. After gulping down half the bottle in one go, Pryna is up and by his side, stretching some more on the linoleum floor before budding her head against his leg. He prepares a bowl of fresh water for her as well, which she devours with as much gusto as the dog food hours ago. He rubs her back idly while watching her lap up the water without being overly messy about it. She has grown so much since he found her, hurt and bleeding, small enough to fit into his arms and drown in them. Back when it was so normal to be lonely that it did not even hurt until he gained glimpses of what he could have. Back when he met Noctis for the first time. 

He is not proud of his reaction that day, not anymore. Working out was a good thing, even if it was hard, but his motivation, while well-placed, was all wrong. He never talked to Noctis about it, how much those poorly phrased words had hurt him, even if they made him healthier overall. He left so many things unsaid between them because he thought himself, them both, eternal; much like he thinks about all his friends. But Noct was not immortal, not invincible and even though Prompto had understood as much in the very end, he had run out of time then. 

The right time never came because it was never there and never will be now. Now, fifteen years later, he knows he should have made it the right time; for feelings and fears and longings and duty. He learned, he learned and still learns so much, but one thought leaves a bitter taste: now though, it is indeed too late. The regret is all that remains, the would have’s and could have’s and maybes. Noctis will never greet him in the morning anymore, mussed up hair and bleary eyes, mumbling more than speaking and pulling that adorable face, will never again laugh or grumble or cry or hunt with him, will never again complain about Gladio’s trainings or Ignis’s meddling; Noctis will never do anything ever again, not in this world at least. The thought used to hurt much more; now it seems to have dimmed down to a hollow throb somewhere inside his chest where his best friend’s passing has left a gaping hole.

A short prick on his legs drags him back to reality and he looks down to find Pryna staring intently up at him, almost accusingly so.

“Sorry, Chibi.” he apologises and resumes petting her. Her gaze does not waver for a while as if searching for the answer to a question she has never voiced. But whatever his body language conveys, it seems to calm her and she yips, getting up on her hind legs and giving his face a nice dog tongue wash. He laughs at the tickling and wet sensation, yet cannot bring himself to shove her away. Prompto lets her comfort him and appreciates it. A cruel voice in the back of his head tells him it is just a dog, dogs are loyal to whoever feeds them, but that is not true. Pryna was, perhaps still is, much more than a common dog. And even if she was just an animal, she is a good companion.

∞

It is only after a thorough cuddling session that Pryna seems to get restless. The dawn is still some hours away, when she starts urging him to follow her. Prompto has other plans though: food, a shower and fresh clothes. Pryna does not seem to agree, sulking on the couch as he steps out of the steamy bathroom. He just laughs at her almost pouting face and turns to get dressed for the trek up Mount Ravatogh. Why they have to go at 4 o’clock in the morning is beyond him, but who is he to argue with an ex-messenger dog to the late Oracle, who should be, by all means, as dead as its owner?

In the end, he does not make the fluffy white dog wait overly much, but she dashes from the room with a speed that suggests he kept her inside for weeks rather than a few hours. Prompto follows. The streets are deserted except for a lone newspaper delivery boy, who waves at him from across the street when he spots him. The blonde waves back, but is hurried by Pryna with a sharp, commanding bark. He had never suspected her to be so pushy.

The hike up the Rock is harsh and demanding and now he remembers what he felt like when they first climbed it fifteen years ago in search of Vyv’s promised spot. The trail is steep and stony and he keeps stumbling ever few steps. His right knee hurts from where he scrapped it at the very beginning of their journey and every muscle in both his legs hurts from the unpractised strain. 

The sky is slowly painted in all nuances of yellow, pink and orange as the sun begins to emerge in the distance, hidden by the mountain itself. The more light illuminates their path, the more nervous Pryna seems to get, hightailing back to him to nudge his legs and tug his trousers, whining softly all the while. Due to the lack of monsters and other obstacles, the trek is a lot faster than he remembers, but his muscles are screaming by the time they reach the lava field that harboured the cave entrance Pryna seems so obsessed with.

But the lava field is no more. The ground is petrified, yet glowing faintly and hot to touch when he crouches down and reaches for it. The last stage of their hike is a lot easier now; he does not have to watch out to burn and singe his clothes or feet or hair every two steps. The air is cooler now, not frozen like the icy wastes around Shiva’s corpse in Niflheim, but refreshingly so on his overheated and sweaty skin. It ends the climb on a lighter note, now that the air is not oppressive and the sky is painted in the beautiful swirls of dawn.

Suddenly, Pryna perks up, her form utterly rigid and for a moment Prompto is worried about her. Then she dashes off with an energy that she should not possess after this hike, even if she is a dog. With an excited bark, she disappears behind the next turn that Prompto is not sure has been here when he last visited this place. Overall, the mountain is changed, apart from the obvious lack of hostile wildlife, cough-inducing smoke and molten fire. The stony heights look different, less jagged and looming, the path has changed, subtly so, but enough to make him wonder if he really is on his way to the top of Ravatogh. Another bark, echoing through the canyon-like structures in front of him, makes him hasten his pace, following Pryna through a narrow pass that barely fits him. On the other side, his breath catches.

The top is indeed changed. More tendrils of glowing red rock reach towards the dawning sky and high reaching boulders obstructing the view of Lucis that Ravatogh is famous for. But here, surrounded by a massif of solidified lava is a spot that makes his heart ache with its comeliness. The ground is overgrown with lush green grass and flowers sway softly in the cool breeze. The air is pregnant with the sweetness of bloom and buzzing alive with bees and butterflies that twirl about. Gone is the hot lava of the cave and its smoking, gaping mouth; in its stead, there is a large basin filled with water that rises from the mountain itself. It travels in a rivulet through the clearing, disappearing somewhere between the rocks to his right. The whole scene is so surreal, he is suddenly unsure if he is dreaming or waking.

Near the basin stands a person, their back turned to him, floating blonde tresses cascading over their shoulders and for a moment Prompto thinks it must be Lady Lunafreya, that she has returned from the dead, but their stature is off. The person is taller than Luna, much taller than Gladio, but petite, almost fragile. They wear a white, shapeless dress that is stained with dark brown and rusty red dirt and their hair is tangled in several places. Their most prominent feature is a massive white wing, only one, erupting from their back that is partially uncovered from the dress. The feathers are in disarray and dirtied in various places and the wing seems to limb slightly, held at an awkward angle that makes Prompto cringe inwardly. 

Still, they look majestic and oddly beautiful, much like Luna managed to when she was beaten and bloodied and dying at Ardyn’s hands. The thought makes Prompto’s throat close up and a gasp escapes him that resounds over the clearing. The person does not startle, though, the only evidence that they heard him is a subtle shift in their stance. He holds his breath, a sudden, bone-deep fear settling within him that he can neither explain nor will away. It is then that Pryna appears beside him, nuzzling his locked leg and whining at him. Then she moves closer to the person, stopping ever so often and yipping as if to make sure not to frighten the other. They do, however, not react. Only when Pryna reaches them, do they crouch down to touch her soft fur and pet her carefully, the movement ill-practised and stilted.

Now Prompto can see it is a woman, her face serene and eternal, a light complexion that, together with her hair, compliments her stark green eyes that are fixed intently on Pryna. Her movements become more fluently the longer she practises them. Then, abruptly, that same piercing gaze turns to Prompto and his body freezes under the scrutiny. Her eyes are looking into his very soul, green and blue swirling in them like lush trees reaching for a cloudless sky. The distance between them seems non-existent, even though he still standing at the end of the narrow trail and she is over there by the basin.

Her face does not soften or change at all, still the air between them shifts and he breathes easier like she is smiling at him reassuringly. She stands then, gracefully despite her less than pristine and perfect appearance and beckons him over slowly. The feathers of the wing rustle lightly in the breeze and a lone, stray feather is blown towards him. Prompto hesitates for the fraction of a moment before moving closer on unsteady feet. Before he can open his mouth though, a mere metre away from her, she opens her mouth and a voice like bells and clear rivers booms through his very being.

“I thank you, silver one, for travelling hither.” she says, as she inclines her head marginally as if to honour him. Prompto flushes with the unanticipated attention and politeness and can only mirror her gesture, which seems to please her immensely. He wonders briefly at her way of addressing him, but disregards it when she moves to continue. “My names are many and fleeting in this world. Some call dawn, others by my given name, Eos.”

“You mean like… the planet?” he asks, perplexed.

She blinks, her head slightly tilted to the side as she eyes him curiously, then she nods and her lips twitch into a smile that is both pleased and warmly affectionate. Prompto suddenly feels really young and small in front of her, much like a child before a loving mother he has never known. It is equally parts nice and depressing. “Indeed. A long time has passed since I last walked this realm. In the times of Solheim, ere the wars of old, mankind still knew of me. I see, this way is no more.” Her face is calm, but her voice betrays her sadness from the quiver in it.

“I’m not sure I can follow. Who are you?” Prompto queries and winces when he sees her crestfallen face. Eos turns her head towards Pryna, who sits beside her loyally and takes the scene in. She almost looks smug, before she moves towards him and presses a paw against his leg.

“She is the goddess of dawn, Prompto. One of the astrals.” A female voice rings through his head and it takes all of Prompto’s control not to yelp out loud, but his shocked gaze conveys his surprise just as much. The white dog grins as him, her mouth full of sharp canines, but it still looks more adorable than threatening.

“Hey, why did you never tell me you could talk?” is the only thing that comes to his mind when presented a talking dog. This is obviously his life now, not, that is was ever conventional. Not by a long shot.

It almost looks like she shrugs as she answers a petulant, “You never asked, Prompto” and he simply cannot believe she is sassing him, in a situation like this. Rather hung up upon the presence of an actually talking dog, the important bit of what Pryna says escapes him until a few seconds later. His head whips around towards Eos, who observes their interaction with all the curiosity of a learning child.

“You are an astral?” he asks, his voice a mere whisper. He remembers Titan and Ramuh, Leviathan, Shiva, Ifrit. They were all imposing, threatening creatures and he cannot help but feel the resentment for the Hexatheon all over again, for taking his best friend, for torturing them all, only to disappear into thin air after everything was said and done. But this one, this Eos. She leaves no such impression. She is tall, but looks more fragile than dangerous in her dirtied white dress, her unkempt blonde tresses and her broken wing. Her face is inviting and she looks much more human than any of the other astrals, even Ifrit in his humanoid form. Even so, if she is an astral, then she is as much responsible for Noctis’s, his father’s, Luna’s, hell even Ravus’s fate.

Prompto’s face closes off and Eos is visibly startled, even going so far as raising a hand towards him, which startles him and makes him stumble backwards. The tears spring to his eyes, unbidden and unwanted, but this; the gall to reach for him to… to what? Comfort him? Tell him all will be fine?

Eos is more agile than she first seemed as she encloses him in a warm embrace. Prompto tries to struggle, would succeed because she is holding him tightly, but not forcing anything else. He ends up clutching her shoulders, her warmth settling over him as she shushes him softly like a mother. The downy feathers of the wing tickle his arm as it curls protectively around him.

“I am so sorry, little one.” she speaks and something wets the side of his face where it is pressed against hers. Prompto is astonished to find her shedding tears alongside him. “I know of the king’s journey.” Her voice is barely above a whisper now, full of the regret that mirrors his own. “I know of your pain and all of your sacrifices. You all endured so much to cleanse this planet and succeed, where others faltered and failed. And yet, the prize is only more pain and sadness, where there should be joy and happiness.” She takes a deep breath and a calm settles over Prompto, his tears slowing and then stopping. There is nothing of the normal numbness and exhaustion that he feels when crying over times long passed.

Pryna joins them to press her small, warm body to both their sides and several minutes pass. He lets himself be comforted by this… this divine being. It is a lot to wrap his head around, starting with the question where she suddenly comes from to more questions as to why she is here, hugging him and drying his tears, when she has obviously been through as much, perhaps even more, than he has. Her hold loses gradually and she pulls back, looking at him with an amount of love and softness he has never had directed at himself. Strangely, it is not awkward at all.

“My brothers and sisters are cruel.” she states, more resigned than heated. Eos reaches for a stray strand of his hair to brush it back from his face and regards him carefully. “They were sworn to protect the planet and yet they failed. They burdened mankind, betrayed and twisted their promise towards all creation. They deceived and schemed and it brought the darkness into the world. On behalf of them, I apologise, silver one. For whatever it is worth, I am sorry for what transpired.”

It is not enough, never will be and they both know it, but a part of him feels calmed by the regret shining in her bright eyes, by her sadness-twisted expression that holds the pain of the world. Prompto is unsure, why he is the one standing here, why she is apologising to him like he is the most important person in this whole scene, for the gods that are silent now. Even if the reasoning escapes him, it is nice to know that there are other… beings, who feel the same hurt and loss as acutely as he does, that all the blame he put on the Six has, at least, not been completely misdirected. It brings none of his friends back, it does not fill the hole in his soul left there by loss and experimentation and isolation, but it soothes the oozing wounds like a cool, healing salve.

∞

When their tears have dried and the sun rises high above them, they talk. It is slow and careful at first. How do you talk to an astral? One that – for once – is willing to listen to you rather than charge and attack.

She asks after the changes in the world after the war of old and he is perplexed to learn that a lot of it is new to her. She only glimpsed at the world in rare moments of conscience when she was gone, essentially dead, as he later realises. When Eos talks about her death, she is choosing her words carefully, stopping ever so often to stare absently ahead and Prompto is often uncertain how to handle her in those moments, in any moments really. Pryna is a big help, though, because she is her usual caring self, always able to pull the divine from her dark thoughts with a friendly lick or nudge.

Prompto does not understand everything she says, but he gets the gist. She talks of a dark place, deep inside the planet, of her imprisonment there at the hands of the other astrals, of time bleeding in and out of itself, of the malicious touch of the Starscourge that ate away at her chained body like rats crawling and feasting on living flesh. Eos retells the story so vividly, there are many moments where Prompto thinks he will be sick, but she never loses a word about why she was there, alone and dying, sentenced to eternal solitude and darkness by her own kin. He does not dare to ask. She died there, her lifeless body oozing with the scourge and daemonic essence, when Ifrit, the Infernean, found and rescued her. 

She speaks fondly of him, calls him a fool for loving her and saving the doomed remains of her body. It is then, that Prompto realises, she probably loved him, too, if love among the astrals is anything like love among humans. Her eternally soft and warm expression tells an entire story of the how much she cared for him.

“He burned me here and died by my side.” Eos ends, turning her head from where they are sitting in the lush, pleasantly sunray-warmed grass, looking up to the tendrils of fiery lava stone, then to the basin where there is now water flowing freely and freshly from Ravatogh’s insides. Her eyes are alight with tears unshed and endlessly sad. Prompto remembers the feeling acutely from when Noctis sacrificed himself for them; gratitude, but guilt and sadness, so much sadness. 

“And through his cleansing flames, he saved my heart, my soul. He could not purge the Starscourge and set it free, when he burned my corpse, but he preserved the dawn and bought time for the planet.” She shakes her head with a watery smile. “After that, everything is hazy. I dimly remember that he returned here, reborn, in a new form. He guarded my heart for centuries.” She gestures towards where there was once the cave entrance, surrounded by flames and lava and heat and Prompto can imagine Ifrit sitting, waiting here for his love to return, slowly changing the environment as he stood watch for her.

“But with the Scourge brought to the planet, the other astrals must have noticed what had transpired. They came to reclaim my heart and overwhelmed Ifrit. They blamed him for the disease that was infesting every living being, deadly to even the astrals themselves because they did not know and did not believe what had happened in the underworld. And Ifrit was never one to defend himself with words.” Eos shakes her head, her blonde tresses floating around her head in a halo of sun before they calm and settle again.

For all this time, Ifrit was defamed as the bad guy, the one who betrayed the planet and caused the Starscourge, the one, who sided with Niflheim, the one, who wanted to see the world fall to ruin and ashes. And while he did side with Ardyn and tried to kill all of them in Insomnia, he might not have started out as the villain he was painted to be. It is strange to think of him as one, who has been wronged by the astrals as much as they wronged all of creation and Prompto cannot help but feel a rush of sentiment for him.

“They fought and he lost. They took the heart from this place, thought it was the only way to save the planet. When it would not serve them, they tore it asunder and cast the shards upon the planet, for what, I do not know. My awareness was shattered, but over the centuries, all shards but one dimmed and broke, lost during many years of war and misgivings. That last shard was kept safe until the very end, the only means to end the Starscourge and bring about real, lasting peace, but it cost those preserving it dearly.”

She looks at him for a moment, obviously waiting for something and everything rapidly clicks into place. The heart of Eos. Scattered pieces of great power over the whole planet, centre of many wars, all but one gone and destroyed, burden to those, who were keeping it safe. He knows the story, but the object carries another name.

“Your heart was the crystal.” he breathes out, his gaze flitting over to where her heart may once have rested before it was stolen, broken and, in the end, delivered to Noctis’s early forefathers. Prompto knows the burden his friend carried acutely, can still remember the suffering and strain it had put on his friend to wear his father’s ring, the responsibility, emotional and physical strain it put him under to be connected to the crystal.

“Indeed. I felt Bahamut’s presence closely by as he waited for the King of Kings, as he called it, to appear and cleanse the world with the help of the Six and the residues of my power. I do not think he knew a fraction of myself remained within the shards of the heart. Through him I gained glimpses at the world as it slowly fell to ruin.” Eos sighs, her hands smoothing over her dress in various places to keep them occupied.

The more time passes, the better she looks. The stains on her dress have disappeared, her hair looks finer, cleaner and healthier now and her eyes shine brightly with renewed energy and vigour. The wing does not look broken anymore and the feathers look much healthier and more orderly than they did before. It fascinates Prompto to watch how the stains disappear before his very eyes, one moment there, the next gone, as she talks.

“At first, I tried to be heard by him,” she confesses quietly, her left hand now busy petting Pryna some more. “I wanted Bahamut to notice me, help me, but he was obviously unable to see or even sense me. So I remained, bound to the crystal and its shards, doomed to watch generation upon generation of men and women wage war against one another to gain more power, power they thought the crystals would give them. Ultimately, they all struggled and failed to meet the other astrals’ requirements.”

There is true sorrow and pain, mixed with resentment and hatred in her words, so deeply rooted that it takes Prompto’s breath away. He cannot imagine what she is talking about, watching not one but hundreds of Lucian kings and queens give their lives for the last crystal and witnessing, before them, all the wars and people, who struggled with the shards, the envy and hatred their power must have sown; all under the watchful eye of one of the gods sworn to protect them.

“I was so angry at times, then hopeless and sad. I spent so much time raging and crying and begging to make this endless circle of madness stop. So many lives lost, so much senseless death and slaughter,” Eos shakes her head, then raises it to watch the endlessly blue sky above them, the sun already making its slow decent towards the horizon to welcome another night. The blonde man cannot believe they have been sitting here and entire day, just… talking, or in his case, listening.

“And then, when I thought all was lost, when I saw visions of Ifrit, crazed and desperate, siding with this nation, Niflheim, that caused so much more suffering and death and was yet another scourge upon the planet, using the Starscourge spawn for their warfare, blatantly disregarding the life given to them, the life around them… when I saw visions of all the other astrals letting it happen, despite their ability to intervene, to see… when I noticed that Bahamut had chosen a child to be the King of Kings, marking him at such a tender age and dooming all his life from the very start…,” her voice turns soft, so soft in the end that it is hard to understand over the other sounds around them. Prompto knows that story, knows that boy because he is the one Prompto still mourns.

“Noctis.” she breathes out and when Prompto looks up, her gaze is unreadable, directed only at him. Pryna, next to her, peaks up at the mention of the king’s name. “When Bahamut chose him, he also linked my conscience to the young prince. It was the first time for countless centuries that I could see and feel beyond the confinement of my heart’s direct vicinity. I watched him grow up in a world that seemed bent on making his path the stoniest of them all. His mother’s death and his injury, the loss of Tenebrae and the one they called Oracle, his father’s dwindling life.” She sighs and smiles the saddest of smiles Prompto has ever seen. “I could not help him or his ailing father, I could not calm his agitated, sad soul that stayed so vigilant until the very end…”

Prompto does not even notice the tears collecting in the corners of his eyes to flow slowly over his cheeks until Eos reaches out to wipe them away. The pain has been his companion for over five years, but it feels still so very fresh again. He knows this man she is talking about, knows him in and out and it hurts so bad to hear her utter those words because he cannot help but think that it might have gone differently if she had had enough power and energy to aid them on their way. He knows it is merely wishful thinking and that is does not change the past to dwell on it, but in moments like these, it is all he can do.

The sky is gradually darkening from the impending night as the sun casts its last waning rays onto their small clearing. The blooming flowers close their blossoms for the night, their fragrance and colours leaving the place, even the insects, birds and small animals disappear into the bushes and cracks of the mountain. The astral in front of Prompto watches the colours spilling over the cloudless sky from the setting sun and she smiles, genuinely now, so happily that it is almost contagious and Prompto wants to smile alongside her. Nothing seems left of the saddened, hurting figure she was just moments ago and it leaves him both suspicious and wondering.

“It is time,” she suddenly exclaims and stands, Pryna barking excitedly and bounding over to the clearing’s entrance in a fluffy blur of white. Another bark, deeper this time, resounds from where she is headed. Prompto whips around to see another ball of soft fur now engaged with the white one; it is all deep, midnight black and yet again the blonde finds himself bereft of his breath.

“I thank you, Prompto Argentum,” Eos addresses him with a smile and when he turns, he is caught in a short, but loving embrace, “for everything.” It’s right this thing that Prompto hates about astrals and divine messengers and prophecies and oracles and all this stuff. They are all so cryptic and he is simply not smart enough to work out their super-secret, hidden meanings in due time. When he opens his mouth to tell her as much, she shushes him gently with a finger to his lips. The heat instantly leaves him.

“Please take this and take it with you, wherever your path may lead you.” she says and something cool touches his right hand. She closes his fingers around it and it causes goose bumps to travel up and down his spine in rapid succession. Her smile is bright and brilliant and roguish and when the last of the sun’s light gives way to night, she vanishes into this air. He shrieks a manly sound when the only thing that is left of her is the touch of her fragile fingers to his lips and the object in his hand.

His fingers are stiff when they open around her gift and he stares in wonder at the item. It looks like a piece of the crystal, like the one he remembers seeing on television a whole life-time ago, but different. Also, not the grotesque, burned out version he saw at Gralea, when it had devoured Noctis, or the empty shell that had resided in Insomnia right before Noctis’s battle against Ardyn. 

This piece, it is bright and clear, emitting icy blue light, like the real crystal, but it carries none of its ominous air. The shard is artfully crafted into a socket that holds a chain of silver. The socket is decorated with all sort of swirls, colours and depictions that look oddly alive in the twilight around him. It looks ancient, but well cared for, lovingly polished and dusted and he dares only handle it with the utmost care. It settles around his neck and Prompto is surprised to find it lighter than it appeared in his hand. It continues to glow calmly, pulsing every now and then, much like a very slow, deep heartbeat. It is comforting.

In front of him, the basin glows briefly with the same cool, icy-blue light and then bursts into a million glittering lights that slowly rise into the sky. All of the clearing is illuminated in the vibrant crystal shine and it is exactly what he imagined the crystal chamber back at the Citadel must have looked. All shadows banished, coolly blazing, pulsing light illuminating everything. As the tiny light spots travel higher and higher their colour changes from bluish violet over green to soft yellows and orange. 

Suddenly, the whole place is bright like the sun has decided to rise again and Prompto can do nothing but stare in rapture as they ascend towards the darkened night sky, casting their light over the whole mountain area now. They glitter and shine with the stars, complete harmony and peace. Suddenly, they disappear in a burst of colours and swirls, much like a firework, but without the obnoxious sounds and smoke. Small, shiny particles rain from the sky and disappear as soon as they touch the ground. They warm his hand briefly, when he touches them.

A rush of gratitude and safety overcomes Prompto where he stands. Even though he is not sure what has happened, even though he has no inkling of the implications of what Eos said and did, it feels like, in this instance, something shifts inside him, inside the whole planet, slotting finally, finally, into place. Like the last puzzle piece has settled and the picture, whatever it depicts, is completed. It leaves him reeling, a rush of breathless excitement engulfing him, but its origin remains elusive.

When he comes to, his fingers are whitened from his harsh grip on the basin where the water is still flowing freely and gurgling quietly. His cheeks and eyes hurt from the grin that stretches over his face and the tears that stream down his face. To his feet, Umbra and Pryna are barking excitedly, Pryna tucking at his trousers – again. As he crouches down to welcome the black dog back into the world, treating him a thorough belly rub and play fighting session that his white counterpart readily joins, Prompto cannot shake the feeling that there is more looming on the horizon. He is unsure how to feel about all this, all that has happened in the last few days, but it has given him more hope than any travelling, any fighting and helping people out around the planet that he has done for the last five years. 

Suddenly, the realisation settles in that this might be a turning point, not just surviving but living, not just for him but for all people because if he gets it right and Eos tells the truth, she is reborn, back – and, most importantly perhaps, she feels indebted to the people that had to suffer at the hands of the astrals and the Starscourge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback, no matter the kind, is always appreciated! See you for the next chapter!


	3. Dream Catcher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends!
> 
> Thanks again for tuning in. First of all, a big hug to all the people, who commented and kudosed this story so far. I really appreciate your support be it loudly or silently.  
>  ~~I will try to refrain from answering your comments because otherwise I end up spamming the whole comment section. Please, don't take it personal!~~ (damn this, you deserve answers to your comments  <3) I never expected to many people to comment. I love you all for that! <3
> 
> Dear [Xinaa_isa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Xinaa_isa/pseuds/Xinaa_isa) pointed out to me that she would love to see some fanart to this fic. That would be super awesome. So if anybody feels really artistic and motivated by this setting, feel free to create something and put up a comment here with the link. I'll be sure to include it in the next chapter! <3
> 
> I hope you like the next chapter as well!
> 
> 08/22/2017: OH GOD, DID YOU SEE? Awesome [argentum_lyn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/argentum_lyn/pseuds/argentum_lyn) went and created awesome artiness for this story. Be sure to check it out here: [Clicky for awesomeness](http://argentum-lyn.tumblr.com/post/164472047450/i-bet-you-learned-being-cryptic-right-from-the). And be sure to leave them some love!!

Together, they reach Verinas Mart shortly after midnight. A few people are still outside, animatedly discussing and Prompto cannot help but overhear their excitement about what happened shortly after sundown at the very top of the mountain. They pay him no mind, too absorbed in the pictures they have taken, which is alright by him. Right now, he desperately needs some time alone, some time to think and make up his mind on how to proceed from here. 

He is not the type to travel around bringing people the good news of their forgotten, new, but actually quite old goddess that might, might not be saving the planet and might, might not bring them eternal peace and prosperity. To be honest, Prompto also does not think it is his place to do so. There are still quite a few devoted people left, deeply convinced that the astrals were rather involved in cleansing the planet – well they were, at the cost of Noctis’s life, but who would mind that detail? – than in poisoning it. To right that wrong, that will be Eos’s job and if she wants some earthly help, well… she obviously knows how to contact him.

The reception is empty when they walk past it to his motel room and the small parking lot is also devout of any living soul. The moon is high up in the deep, dark sky, shining so brightly alongside the stars that flank it. The key slides into its lock and opens the door with a satisfying click, before they can enter the room. Pryna and Umbra bounce past him in their happiness, yipping softly, obviously mindful of the late hour and the other inhabitants of the motel. 

Briefly, Prompto marvels at their perception and understanding of life around them, but at the same time, he is not surprised in the least; they are still otherworldly, no matter how much they look like two typical dogs. He treats them, and himself, some late-night food, which is devoured with in the matter of seconds by all parties. It is just half an hour later that finds Prompto showered and ready for sleep on his bed, surrounded by both Umbra and Pryna, who are curled around the blonde on either side. He falls asleep, light as a feather and a part of him is convinced that there will be more waiting for him tomorrow.

∞

The next few days pass in a flurry. Prompto stays at Verinas Mart for two days and returns to the peak of Ravatogh once more, only to find it, while still beautiful and alive, empty of a certain astral. He does not know why he seeks her or if he even does, perhaps he only wants to be ascertained that he did not dream all of this. Umbra and Pryna, though, they are most definitely not a dream. A dream would not wake him up with wet tongues, heart-breaking whines and soft paws all over his face in the early hours of the day to be walked and to be fed or just to play because apparently 4 o’clock in the morning is exactly the best time for that. He cannot be too mad about it, but he does wonder if Luna ever had to deal with this kind of thing as well. It is hilarious to imagine her being chased around by her dogs, like they do him, but the thought hurts some hollow space inside his chest.

And when Prompto is not taking care of the dogs or aimlessly walking around Verinas Mart, he catches himself staring off into the distance at the edge of town, unseeing of the ever-approaching greens that slowly take over the entirety of the environment. There is something calling in the distance, but deep down he is afraid to know what it is. It makes the crystal shard around his neck weigh heavier and the area where is lies against his bare skin, hidden from the eyes of passing people, warm and itchy. It might not be a bad feeling, but it is still unsettling, worrying.

What worries him equally as much are his dreams. Rarely has his sleep been pleasant in the last fifteen years, alternatively plagued by all-consuming darkness and Ardyn’s face, his voice, his sinister laughter. He knows he cannot possibly ever forget what happened at Gralea and the time spent alone in the snowy wastes surrounding the capital of Niflheim. Forever will the long, empty hallways, the low shuffling of the corrupted magitek soldiers and the icy temperatures be burned into his mind, the long days of waiting, of Ardyn toying with him, breaking him inside and out. 

But these last few days, none of those dreams have haunted him. Every time the darkness seems to seep into the constructions of his dreams, there is this small, entirely white animal, big ears, bright, amber eyes and long tail, covered in fluffy fur. The most striking thing about it is the small red ruby that protrudes from its forehead and Prompto dimly remembers having seen it somewhere before, but he cannot recall where. It feels like it’s chasing away all the doom and gloom and it lets him _rest_. Prompto wakes up more rested than he can even remember ever feeling like in the past decade, without a rapidly fluttering heart and exhausted heavy breaths gasping in his throat, trying to get a grip on reality as the dream fades in the morning. It’s nice, but he cannot help but question the timing. Something has shifted after meeting Eos, like somebody or something is watching over him and as much as the thought comforts him before going to sleep at night, it’s also unnerving.

He is surprised to find more people swarming the town after the second day and the newspaper, television and radio alight with news and speculation about the strange happenings around Mount Ravatogh. A whole delegation of researchers, bearing the Lucian crests on their clothing, arrives on the eve of that very day, setting up their equipment and base close to the foot of the mountain. Apparently, his interaction with Eos did not go unnoticed, even if he feels somewhat guilty that these scientists most likely will find nothing at all here.

But their arrival, seeing the Lucian crests that still done the chests of those officially in service to Lucis, tugs at his heart. He knows he neglected his friends in the last few years, knows that they suffered as much as he did from the acute loss of their king, their friend and their duty. It might have been even harder for them, witnessing the one constant in their lives give himself to save his people, a most noble cause that ripped all their hearts out in the process. After that, Gladio, Ignis and Prompto had travelled together for some time, leaning on one another in the first four months that followed the king’s death, which left the remaining people reeling and scrambling for something to hold on to. 

Now though, Insomnia is a beautiful city again, lacking the magical, life-leeching wall that is no longer needed now that the daemons are gone. The country is now ruled by an elected government, but the people still honour the Caelum bloodline. Gladio and Ignis both take active part in rebuilding the city and hold honorary seats for their part in saving the planet; Prompto still remembers the extraordinary long ceremony that was held for them, watching it from his resting place in Lestallum on a shitty, small television screen, while the people down in the streets cheered for their saviours. The blonde himself takes additional care not to be noticed in public. It had happened, once or twice, when he was still going around, taking contracts for killing daemons. He has gotten more cautious in that regard, not liking the attention that he thinks he does not deserve in the least. 

It is, ultimately, why he left Insomnia instead of staying behind with his friends. That and the fact that the city is still full of _their_ places. The arcade that was destroyed by Niflheim’s and Ardyn’s occupation, the coffee shop with the cute barista that would always give Noctis a double on the house, the Citadel that has now been repaired, looking as regal and strong as ever, the gardens, the school, his parent’s old home. It hurts, like a million shards of his broken soul digging into what remains of his heart and is not eaten up by the vast emptiness he feels there. Prompto never wanted to burden Gladio or Ignis with it, no matter how much they insisted on it; they suffered just as much, even without his problems and they learned how to cope. It is why he feels it is his duty, as Noctis’s friend and guard, to do the same. His way is just a little unorthodox.

∞

On the third day, he is woken by two energetic dogs walking all over him, nothing special. But the way they cannot seem to calm down when he is finally awake and ready to serve them some food and walk them, leaves him puzzled. Without paying them much mind, he packs his sparse belongings, food and water and checks out of the motel, aware that it probably means they are leaving now.

Outside, they never stray too far from his side as they always do, but Umbra is unusually whiney, tugging and head-budding his legs to make him walk into a certain direction, while Pryna walks in front of them, ever so often returning to her friend to help him push Prompto forward. The blonde is almost jogging leisurely when they finally deem him fast enough to just lead the way. They only slow when they notice he is out of breath and simply unable to continue at the pace they set. Half an hour later, a lone car passes them and Umbra almost gets run over as he tries to get it to stop to pick them up. Prompto apologises profoundly to the man as he gathers up a wildly barking Umbra in his arms.

“I’m so sorry, sir, I don’t know what has gotten into him.” he calls out with a nervous laughter, before looking up and staring into the scarred face of no other than Cor Leonis. _What are the odds of meeting him here?_ , Prompto wonders to himself, as he blinks at the ex-marshal, who leans his arm leisurely out of the opened window of the sleek, black car he drives.

“If it isn’t Prompto Argentum,” he says stoically, but even though the blonde tries to not be intimidated by this man, he certainly has a way to make him feel fifteen years younger and a whole lot less experienced just with the drawl of one sentence. They study each other before Cor pulls the car over and exits it while stretching his long, muscled limbs. 

The past years have been kind to the Immortal, he has aged with dignity. His brown hair is still lush, streaked with grey every now and then. The creases on his brow that Prompto suspects come from too much frowning and too little fun when he was younger have deepened and a few more scars now cover his face. Otherwise, he has not changed much, he still as strong and imposing as ever and still wears the official Lucian colours. Now that there are less and less daemons to pursue, he acts as advisor and tactician to the Lucian army and also has a seat in the government, like most of the famous people that made it through the last fifteen years more or less unscathed. Pryna seems more reserved about Cor, sticking to Prompto’s legs while eyeing him warily, while Umbra whines and wriggles until Prompto has to set him down. The black dog then bounds over to Cor, happily panting and barking in excited greetings. The startled expression that passes over Cor’s normally so stoic face makes the seventeen-year-old in Prompto unbearably smug and giddy.

“Umbra,” he breathes out, crouching down to pet the dog and the blonde freezes when he sees the same vulnerable expression on the marshal’s face that he knows he wore when Pryna found him days ago. There is surprise, happiness, but also anguish and that tiny sliver of hope that makes Prompto’s heart clench up because what if this means nothing at all? What if they are just back because they are divine messengers, undying, eternal and ultimately released from their old duties now that their masters are dead and gone?

Cor’s eyes leave the dog to look at Prompto again, his stare imploring, questioning but much more open than he has ever witnessed before. Before he can ask, the blonde starts rambling.

“I don’t know where they came from, Pryna was just there and then I found Umbra up on Mount Ravatogh three days ago after…” he stumbles over his explanation, unsure whether to tell Cor about his meeting with an astral or if it will make him come across as even crazier than people already think he is.

The other man is silent for a moment, but he takes Prompto’s nervous fumbling as some answer. “We haven’t heard from you in quite some time, Prompto.” he suddenly says, refocussing on the dog in front of him that is now demanding a hearty belly rub from him. It is quite the endearing scene to witness and Prompto would be sure to take a picture if he did not value his life at least a little. “Ignis and Gladio are worried.”

The blonde sighs heavily. “Yeah... I just kinda up and left and now I don’t call often enough to make sure Iggy doesn’t fret. I just… had to set some things straight, on my own.” he admits, running a hand through his hair in order to keep it occupied and refrain from being too twitchy, a habit, he had hoped to lose as he grew older but that had ultimately stuck with him.

“Where are you headed?” Cor asks instead of prying further and Prompto wants to weep like child in gratitude.

“Beats me... these guys are kinda guiding me, without telling me where.” It is supposed to be accusatory but neither Umbra nor Pryna, who is stalking ever closer to Cor now that she has noticed he gives good belly rubs, seem interested in guiding him anywhere for the time being.

“I’m headed back to Insomnia and report what I saw here. You have been to Ravatogh, yes?” he asks and Prompto nods gingerly. “Perhaps you can give me a rundown of what you saw there.” His gaze is entirely too knowing for the blonde’s liking, but he agrees anyway because the dogs seem enthused by the proposition and practically drag him towards the car. Prompto swears he sees Cor smiling, but it is gone again when he turns to watch more closely. His eyes, though, shine mirthfully and that is certainly not just his imagination.

At first, there is an almost oppressive silence in the car. Cor, who has never been much of a talker and does not seem to have changed over the last years that Prompto has only seen him on occasion, is back to his stoic, unreachable self. Meanwhile, Pryna and Umbra are curled up on the backseat, sleeping away while they make good time down the Ravatoghan Trail, over the bridges that cross the Maidenwater and the Wennath, up the road that leads them through the Coernix Bypass from Cleigne to Duscae. Prompto knows these roads intimately. 

He remembers the fishing spot, where Noctis liked to make them pull over to spend some time at the banks of the Wennath, he knows the stops and haven locations that still glow with their ethereal, blessed runes that kept the daemons at bay, their magical smoke ever present in the distance as he watches the trees and meadows pass by. Animals cross their path from time to time. Most parts of Lucis remain wild and untamed, a few even lost to the wilds during the ten years of darkness.

The wildlife is marvellous, even though some species disappeared from the planet, going extinct during the dark times, others rising up and filling up the gap they left. Prompto still entertains the thought of becoming a professional wildlife photographer, collecting and categorising animals both ferocious and friendly, keeping their memory alive for generations to come. It might be nice, the right kind of relaxing, fun and dangerous that he sought over the last five years. He looks out of the window and imagines himself there, chasing the garulas that currently pass over the street in front of their car at a leisure pace or the pack of elder coeurl that he caught glimpses of an hour ago in the woods, selling his pictures to nature magazines or the scientific community, living on the road for the rest of his life without ever settling down. It is much like he has spent his life up to this point, but he had purpose then and coming back to doing something so mundane just cannot compare.

“Tell me what happened on Ravatogh, Prompto.” Cor half commands, half asks quietly when they are almost in Lestallum. The air over the street in front of them is trembling with heat as the sun beats down white hot onto the outskirts of the city. The air streaming in from the rolled down windows is cool and refreshing. It is just past noon and Cor obviously plans on staying somewhere in Alstor Slough, maybe even driving as far as Hammerhead before resting. A nervous glance in Cor’s direction shows him the man leans as relaxed and unimposing against the door, one hand on the steering well, the other dangling out of the window, as he can. Pryna and Umbra watch their conversation with the utmost attention.

“I was visiting Cauthess, when I found… well to be honest when Pryna found me.” Prompto starts, leaning against his seat and staring straight ahead. No matter how old he grew, he would always find the marshal to be worthy of respect and maybe a little, residual fear. “It was like a voice was calling me and there she was, just like when I encountered her as a small pup, before I even knew any of you.”

“A voice?” Cor’s eyebrow arches high on his forehead, but it does not seem judgemental; they have both seen too many strange things happening to doubt even the most puzzling of stories. Prompto suspects by the end of this particular story, Cor maybe be doubting his sanity regardless.

“Yeah, I was lost in thought and didn’t notice her, but… I dunno, it was like she called out to me. Ever since then we have been travelling together. She kinda commanded me to travel to Ravatogh and we arrived there about four days ago. She really wanted me to see something up on the top of that mountain, so I went.”

“And what did you see?”

Prompto gulps down the saliva that has accumulated in his otherwise desert-dry mouth. His heart is beating rapidly in his chest and he can feel the tendrils of a headache reaching out towards his skull from the nervous energy coursing inside his body. Cor has never given him reason to distrust him in any way, but the prospect of telling him all this still scares a part of him. He feels something wet touch his bare arm and turns to see Umbra pressing his nose against it in an attempt to calm him. _It’s okay_ , a deep but clear voice resonates through his head, making him startle and flinch heavily, _you can tell him_. The dog’s eyes are completely fixed on him, drilling into his own as if gazing at his very soul.

“Are you alright?” Cor shakes him from his reverie with the question. Prompto did not notice that he pulled the car over and the marshal seems genuinely concerned with his reaction. The blonde merely manages to nod, taking a few deep breaths to calm his nerves and align his thoughts before settling back.

“He… uh, Umbra kinda talked to me right now?” He is not sure how to approach this subject. Never had Noctis or Lunafreya told anybody that they were able to communicate with the dogs, perhaps they had done so secretly, but that would have made the book Umbra had been carrying back and forth between them entirely obsolete.

The marshal looks imploringly at the dog that is now back to being settle against the soft cushions, seeming entirely pleased with himself. “Why am I even surprised to hear that…” Cor mutters sarcastically and Prompto cannot help the laugh that escapes him at the dry statement. The other shakes his head, settles back and starts the car again, proceeding as if nothing happened and the blonde feels a lot lighter with the easy acceptance. He talks about his otherworldly meeting with the astral called Eos much easier after that.

∞

The black car reaches Hammerhead a good two hours into the night. The temperatures are rapidly dropping in the sandy and rocky region that is Leide. Merely a few more kilometres lie between them and the capital and Umbra and Pryna have remained perfectly quiet in the backseat for the entirety of their travel. But now, Prompto is pretty sure they actually want him to go and visit Insomnia. And even though he knows that they can communicate with him does not mean they will. When they had left Cleigne behind, he had asked them for directions, but the two creatures had remained silent, almost gloating as Umbra had playfully barked at him in response. Cor had been silent throughout the whole exchange and had only offered a shrug, when Prompto had turned around, sighing and pouting to settle into his seat again.

Cor did not seem to have much of an opinion regarding the blonde’s encounter with an astral. He had listened attentively, asked questions every now and then and when Prompto was done just after passing Alstor Slough, silence had settled over them. The older had been obviously pondering the other’s words and Prompto had spent the rest of the ride sending texts to Ignis, Gladio and Iris to let them know he would be visiting the next day, with a small surprise.

When they exit the car, the blonde stretches his tired, heavy limbs and yawns widely. The dogs do much the same, when he lets them out as well, while Cor strides purposefully towards the small motel that Hammerhead now has. The town looks nothing like the dilapidated, but fenced and guarded structure it had developed into during the ten-year darkness. It has grown in the last five years. The garage and gas station are ever present, but more houses litter the once deserted streets around it. The motel is nestled between Takka’s diner and a supermarket that has opened to welcome the new inhabitants and supply them. The last time he has been here for more than a stop was two years ago, he remembers, for Cid’s funeral. He feels guilty for not dropping by more often and making sure Cindy is dealing alright with the death of her grandfather.

“Long time, no see!” a female voice chirps from behind him, mirth and laughter a constant even after all these years. _Speaking of the devil_ , he muses as he turns with a smile upon his lips. It’s mirrored by Cindy’s own face. A few specks of dirty litter her tanned face, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and the yellow cap donning her head. Her smile is wide and welcoming, having lost nothing of its brilliance even over the many dark years. Instead of answering, Prompto catches her in a crushing hug and she laughs merrily as she wraps her muscled arms around him in return. She is warm and smells of motor oil and sweat.

“I’m sorry for not dropping by more often.” he says quietly, when they step back, but Cindy just waves him off.

“Stop it with the nonsense.” she calls, her smile never wavering. “Ya got things t’do, I got things t’do, it’s all fine, no sweat. So tell me, stud, how’ve ya been?”

Her company is nice and familiar. They had spent a lot of time together during the darkness, when Prompto had helped secure Hammerhead against the daemons. Before all that, he would have gladly taken a chance at being more than her friend. Who wouldn’t? Cindy was and still is a beautiful and headstrong woman, who knows what she wants and how she intends to get it. Now though, he is content to be friends with her, likes it better than pursuing a romantic relationship with her. They can cease to talk for weeks, sometimes months, but when they get in touch with each other again, it’s like that time of silence has never happened. Cindy is understanding, even if he presumes she did not completely understand his behaviour after the king’s death. He doesn’t blame her.

They converse for some time, during which Pryna and Umbra show up and are immediately cuddled by Cindy, who has always had a soft spot for dogs. It is then that Cor returns, informing Prompto that they will stay the night. The blonde says his goodbyes to Cindy, promises to call more regularly and turns to follow the marshal, the dogs running after him with joyful yips.

∞

“Would you show me the crystal shard, Prompto?” Cor asks when everyone is done eating their takeout food from Takka’s. The table is littered with empty boxes and dirty dishes and Prompto feels like lying down and going to sleep right this instant. He yawns loudly, before pulling up the chain that carries the gift he was given by Eos. He takes it off and hands it over to the marshal, who is sitting on the opposite side of the table. His brow furrows when he gingerly takes it and turns it around in careful hands.

“I’m not even sure if it’s part of the real things. I mean…”

“It is.” Cor simply answers and his expression can only be described as marvelling. The shard does not glow as brightly in his hands as it does in Prompto’s, but the latter is not sure if he should mention that particular detail. “I’ve only been to the crystal chamber a couple of times with both Mors and Regis, but this thing gives me the exact same chills.” He hands it back and the blonde can make out the fine layer of goosebumps that travel up the other’s arms. When the blonde touches it, the shard does not feel any different, it does not make him shiver or feel strange. It is still warm on his skin and pulses softly.

“I does seem to react differently to you, though.” Cor muses, staring at the shard that emits gentle blue waves of light. “There must be a reason why she gave it to you.”

“I guess so,” Prompto shrugs and places the chain back over his head to rest against his neck. “But she wasn’t elaborating… as they always are.”

“I hear you…” Cor sighs and leans back, crossing his arms in front of his chest, his expression resigned. “Seems like we have to wait for the gods to give us another sign… yet again.”

The blonde looks up, but the other is already rising and cleaning up the table, signalling Prompto to stay seated with a wave of his hand. He disappears into the small kitchenette just around the corner. Cor is right, sadly. They will have to wait for further instructions, be it from Eos herself or Umbra and Pryna, who have been stubbornly silent ever since that one time in the car.

A little later, Cor excuses himself to make a phone call and announce their arrival early tomorrow noon. Exhausted as he is, Prompto barely manages to change and fall into the bed in the tiny second bedroom, leaving the door open in case the dogs decide to grace him with their presence or Cor needs something from him.

∞

His sleep is restless that night. He is standing in a huge, empty hall, the ceiling high enough that he can barely see where it ends in the distance above him. Pillars of marble stone are reaching far into the air to hold it and they glisten wetly in the blue light that shines from the middle of the room, but there is no source to it. Wherever the light does not touch, there are shadows pouring from the walls and the floor and Prompto makes sure to stay as close to the strange light as possible. The small animal is there, looking up at him with gleaming eyes and he can only stare back. It is waiting there, near the blue light and opens its mouth as if to speak to him. Before he can hear what it has to say, he wakes from the dream with a start, his heart fluttering in his chest.

Umbra sits next to him on the narrow bed, looming. He is only illuminated by the light of the moon streaming through the windows. Prompto reaches for him and the dog presses his face into his hand and arm readily.

_Find the others_ , that deep voice speaks up and the blonde cannot help but shiver and stare into those intelligent, ancient eyes, _tell them. They will help you. Find the dream catcher_.

“Wha…” he queries sleepily, continuing to scratch through Umbra’s coat, whose eyes are closed in contentment and happiness. “What’s goin’ on?” he slurs, eyes drooping ever so often. The black dog gives his wrist a short lick and Prompto smiles softly.

_You will see in due time_ , Umbra answers without speaking, _the shard Eos gave you holds a part of her soul and there is a place this soul belongs_.

“I bet you learned being cryptic right from the astrals themselves.” the blonde moans, falling back into the soft pillows, ready to sleep again. “All this believing and following business would be much easier if somebody took the time to be precise about their instructions.”

Umbra does not deem it necessary to answer him, but instead cuddles close to him on the bed, laying his head onto Prompto’s chest. The only reaction the blonde gets is a snort and a grunt as the dog settles down to sleep next to him. There is nothing more to say, Prompto realises and sighs, brushing through Umbra’s downy fur as he tries to find sleep again.


	4. Nostalgia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear god, I'm so sorry for the horrible delay. The last weeks have been super busy, plus I'm super caught up in playing Guild Wars 2 again. 
> 
> Have a chapter and forgive my lazy ass <3 Thanks to all the people reading, commenting, endorsing and liking this work! You are a huge motivation :)  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter as well! Let me know what you think of it!

The group reaches Insomnia just past noon the next day. The sky is shrouded in clouds ever since they crossed the bridge towards the island, the waves crashing against the structures below with the unrest of a storm to come. Insomnia; that’s a place he had promised himself never to set foot in again, no matter how many of his friends reside there. Before Noctis, the city had never much felt like home, and now after his passing it has lost all the homey feelings Prompto might have ever harboured for it. It makes him feel guilty, like so many things do, but it is merely a measure of self-preservation. He is really not big on hurting himself further, so he keeps away. _At least I thought I would_ , he muses idly as he watches the Insomnian gates part before them.

There is security about, people clad in the colours that Prompto knows once belonged solely to those sworn to the royal family. Now, there are no kings or queens to protect any longer, so the institutions once known as Kingsglaive and Crownsguard were repurposed. No longer do they serve the royal family, but the elected government and the population, preserving the peace and enforcing the law if necessary. And keep track of who enters and exits the capital, it seems.

Cor states his business curtly, obviously unable to muster any patience for the stuttering recruit that cannot have been wearing his uniform for more than a few months. Prompto almost pities him and gives him an encouraging smile as he stumbles through another round of questions regarding their stay in Insomnia. It only serves to make the poor guy even more nervous.

He told Cor about his conversation with Umbra over breakfast that morning and the older man had agreed to take him along to the capital and to the Citadel, where he would surely come across either Ignis or Gladio. The name dream catcher, interestingly, rang no bells with Cor. “If Umbra says the others will help you, they’ll sure know more,” he had said with a shrug and gone back to his coffee.

At last, they may pass and the drive through the lower districts of town into the upper parts where the Citadel is looming in the distance is one that the blonde is intimately familiar with. The streets look different now, some rebuilt, some still in ruins. But people are about everywhere, the city alive once again, a stark contrast to the time when it was occupied by Ardyn.

There are construction sites littering the scenery where people seem to work tirelessly to restore what was lost of Insomnia during the darkness. Cars are busily passing by and they get into three traffic jams on their way to the Citadel. The liveliness of Insomnia is heady, as it always was to him and Prompto gets swept up in it although he is not even outside to witness the bustling first hand. His lips twitch into a smile despite himself, watching as life finds its way when given the chance.

They pass a school on their drive; pupils are playing in the yard, loud and carefree, laughing and joking as if the last fifteen years have not happened. _But they have_ , Prompto reminds himself, watching the children as the car stops to wait for the traffic light to turn green, _they have and it’ll take a lot of time to forget it._

The closer they get to the Citadel, the more agitated the blonde grows, restlessly shifting in his seat and nervously picking at the wrist band he still wears around the barcode on his arm. If Cor notices, which he most likely does, he does not comment or judge him and Prompto feels infinitely thankful for that.

The Citadel is as beautiful and imposing as ever. The large metal doors open soundlessly in front of them, once the marshal has talked to the guards stationed by the western entrance. The inner courtyard has changed somewhat. The ponds filled with fresh, crystal clear water are still there, but the red carpets are gone. The centre, where they fought Ifrit near the burning pyre, is completely rebuilt. A large construction site sits in the middle of the roundabout in front of the Citadel’s entrance and it looks like a huge statue is being built there. The blonde equally dreads and anticipates knowing who it depicts but he has a clear idea.

Cor parks the car on one of the obviously newly constructed parking lots left and right of the main entrance and Prompto has to take a breath before he dares opening his door. This place is so familiar, yet strange and new and all of it is enough to completely paralyze him in his seat, his hands frozen in his lap and his gaze a million miles away. Pryna whines from the backseat and presses her head into his shoulder encouragingly. _It’s fine, you are fine, we are here for you,_ she tells him, her voice likes chimes in his head and it is enough to drag him back into reality.

When his skin touches the car’s door, it is like touching an electric current, fear spiking through him, but he pushes through it, getting out and taking a deep breath once he is standing there, in the middle of Insomnia, where he last saw King Regis, where they started and ended their journey, where they fought the god of fire, where his best friend died to bring back the dawn.

The air tastes of the sea and car exhausts, of fine dust and the ozone of magical residues that still linger even though the crystal and all its magic is gone. Prompto opens the door to the backseat to let Umbra and Pryna out. Even the black dog looks a little pensive setting foot on Insomnian ground again, his stare going up and up the tall building. The blonde follows that stare and is astounded, yet again, by the sheer beauty that is the Citadel, all white facades, shining even though the sky is cloudy and the sun weak, glowing ethereally.

When he can tear his eyes away, he follows Cor, who is waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the main entrance. Again, there are guards about, but they obviously notice the marshal right away and let them pass. He feels their curious stares as he walks past them and does his best not to duck his head like he did almost twenty years ago, when he first visited this place. The ceilings are as high as he remembers, all white and artfully decorated and painted. Flowers are set up everywhere, wrapped in ribbons of black velvet, the royal crest upon them. It seems that the entrance hall is still dedicated to mourning the royal family and Prompto’s heart clenches painfully in his chest. The floor beneath his feet is covered by lush carpets and his dirty, worn out shoes look all too out of place here. He feels out of place; at least some things never change.

Ignis and Gladio wait for them at the end of the foyer and the blonde’s step falters when he catches Ignis’s eyes for the first time in fifteen years. He knew; Gladio had told him, that the world’s most famous doctors had been working on restoring Ignis’s eyesight, but Prompto had refrained from getting his hopes up, had never thought it possible to see those pale blue eyes ever focus on something again. Tears spring to his eyes, unbidden, and he smiles widely. Gladio mirrors it, all teeth and grin, while Ignis is a little more reserved about it, but no less welcoming and happy.

After that, it is easier. He strides over to them, uncaring of who is watching and what they are thinking because once he reaches them, he hugs Ignis close, relieved and happy and sad, all together. The older hugs him back and Gladio’s heavy hand sits gently on his shoulder, silent presence of comfort and support. They respected his wish for solitude, to get his thoughts straightened out, even if they did not like to see him go. No matter how different from them Prompto felt in the very beginning, inferior, small. Just a commoner among royalty, a broken MT unit, an enemy, unworthy of their time and attention, their brotherhood. They grew on each other, with all their shortcomings and flaws because, he suspects, otherwise they would have never made it this far.

“Let’s talk somewhere more private.” Ignis finally says, his eyes briefly flitting over to the Glaives by the heavy double doors behind them. Cor leaves them then as he is to report back his findings at Ravatogh and probably also to retell Prompto’s story to the head of the Glaives, perhaps also the government. Not that the blonde is particularly interested in the ways of politicians and officials.

They take one of the various elevators up to the higher levels of the Citadel, which is, much like the rest of Insomnia, alive with people. Ignis leads them to a secluded chamber that Prompto has never been to. It is overlooking the royal gardens, nestled on top one of the various high-rising towers of the Citadel. The skyline of Insomnia stretches beyond those gardens that are still alight with greens and flowers. There are three tombstones settled amongst the beautiful flora, all masterly sculptured, even though one of them looks older than the other two. He knows the engravings by heart, they are the same ones as on the real resting place of the king, his queen and his son; those that lie outside of the city by the sea, atop of one of the high-reaching cliffs, surrounded by ever-blooming sylleblossoms. It is pure irony that the flowers vanished during the darkness, only to reappear once the very last royal tomb had been finished, now harbouring two, instead of only one king, and a queen. This small graveyard is a testament of what has been sacrificed to bring about peace.

“Prompto…” a voice calls him from his reverie and he turns his head to see Ignis looking – _looking_ – at him with knowing eyes and a sad smile. “I’m sorry for bringing you here, I should’ve considered…”

“No, it’s fine,” the blonde croaks out and manages a wavering twist of his lips. “It’s fine, _I’m_ … I’m not fine.” he opts for the truth because there is no need to lie to them. They have already seen him at his worst and they accepted him, they still do, even after he all but disappeared the last few years. “But I will be.”

The other studies him some more and finally nods, motioning towards the small table. There is coffee and tea and small pastries that smell so heavenly they must be Ignis’s making. Prompto gingerly tries some when he sits down and all but moans at the taste of it. To his right, Gladio chuckles deeply and grins.

“So,” the broadly shouldered man starts, sipping from his cup of tea. “What happened? Cor hasn’t really gone into any specifics and seeing those two,” he waves over towards Umbra and Pryna, who have settled down on the plush carpet under their table, “was one hell of a surprise.”

Prompto nods and starts talking. Pryna, Ravatogh, _Eos_ , the supposed truth about the Starscourge, about Ifrit and the other astrals, Umbra, the crystal shard. Finally, the conversations he has had with the two dogs, especially with Umbra last night. The crystal shard glows softly where he placed it on the centre of the table. Gladio and Ignis listen aptly and never once interrupt him with questions or remarks. After he is done, there is silence, but it is a light, a contemplative one, where everybody is lost in their thoughts to process what has been said. The blonde takes the time to study his friends more closely.

Ignis looks well, his hair styled back perfectly, his eyes bright and alert behind his glasses. The scars around his eyes are less pronounced than they were when Prompto last saw him. He is wearing a black, well-tailored suit, but the jacket is open, revealing the white shirt he is wearing beneath it. His forehead is creased in thought, but otherwise there is no wrinkle to his pale skin.

Gladio has not changed much as well. He is still a muscled behemoth of a man, tall and imposing, but warm and gentle to people he cares about. He wears his beards and hair much the same as before, except maybe for the side cut he now has. The scars in his face have also faded in intensity over the years and some wrinkles show on his skin, most likely from all the scowling or grinning he does on regular basis. He wears a suit as well, but his dress shirt is only loosely closed, showing off his muscled chest and tattoos that lie beneath. His dark brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail. He still got this rough look about him, but a lot more professional than before.

“The dream catcher, you say.” Ignis muses aloud, his eyes scanning the room in thought. “I have heard that name before, shortly after the prince was injured by the imperial daemon at the age of eight. He fell into an injury-induced coma and the king got him this figurine, a carbuncle, I think he called it. It was made of plain wood, but I remember that it looked like it was made of pure magic.”

“It depicted a small fox creature, didn’t it?” Gladio adds, scratching his beards absentmindedly and Ignis nods.

“Yes, it did. Short snout, big ears and long tail. Noctis swore it visited him in his dreams from time to time. Back then I thought he was merely coping with what happened a little differently than everybody expected, but I suppose it’s not the most unbelievable thing we’ve witnessed over the years.”

Prompto perks up at that. “What do you mean, it visited him in his dreams?”

“Well, Regis suspected something held him in coma other than his injuries and the carbuncle should aid him in waking from it. And after that, he was plagued by bad dreams, but he always insisted that the carbuncle was there, helping him deal with them and keeping them at bay.” The bespectacled man reaches for his cup of coffee, his expression thoughtful before his eyes flicker over to Gladio. “Do you know whether the figurine survived?”

The other plays with his short beard as he thinks. “Most of the Citadel’s interior was wrecked by Ardyn and the daemons, but I kinda doubt he would have taken the time to destroy something that looked like a mere piece of decoration. It might still be in the royal quarters…” he trails off and focusses his gaze on Prompto, who is lost in his own head, mulling over what they just said as he bites his bottom lip absentmindedly. “You look like you have something else on your mind, blondie.”

The man startles at the nickname and jumps in surprise like a jittery animal. He stares at his friends, whose posture changes almost instantly to the most non-threatening they can muster, like he will bold if they so much as move a muscle. He takes a few moments to collect his scrambled and scattered mind and calm himself, before he sits back and relaxes. It causes Gladio and Ignis to relax as well and the latter smiles at him, small and private and encouragingly. Prompto coughs in embarrassment and grabs another cookie to keep his hands occupied.

“So, I got these dreams, you know? I mean, with all we’ve gone through, it’s normal to have nightmares and stuff. But since meeting Eos, there is this thing, I thought nothing of it at first, but now that you talked about this fox thing… there is this fox animal, all white and fluffy, this red ruby on its forehead and it’s like it’s made out of pure light because it keeps the darkness at bay. It’s exactly as you say. It does not talk to me, it’s just there and… _helps_.” he gestures around helplessly to make his point, but neither Gladio nor Ignis look like they need much more information to understand and he’s, yet again, overcome with severe gratitude for having such friends.

“So, what you are saying is… this carbuncle thing that helped Noct from his coma and deal with his nightmares when he was eight… is now helping you?” Gladio summarises gruffly and he cranes his head a little to look outside, where the sun has now managed to break through the cloud laden sky and casts some stray rays on the world. The gravestones sit there, cold stone, flanked by lush greenery and life. “Guess this particular story isn’t over yet.” he murmurs under his breath, almost too quiet to hear, but both Prompto and Ignis hear it perfectly well even if they choose not to react to it. The blonde tries not to be hopeful, though he does not even know what it is exactly he is hoping for, but there is a warm place unfurling in his chest that he knows is plain, beautiful, desperate hope.

“It may be connected to the crystal…” Ignis hypothesizes and picks up the shard gingerly. The glow intensifies for a spell before it dims to its comforting pulses of clear, blue light. “After all, Noctis was closely connected to the crystal…” he stops before taking a shuddering breath, “the planet’s _soul_ … as well. Maybe this dream catcher is made from the same magic.”

 _The crystal_ , something inside Prompto echoes and, for a moment, he thinks Umbra is talking to him again, but the dog is peacefully sleeping away on the carpet near his feet. But this voice, he knows it. He tries to listen for it, but it is gone as fast as it appeared. With a shiver, he remembers his last dream, vividly, like a video playing in front of his eyes; the setting, the light, white marble columns supporting the endless ceiling, swirls and art chiselled into the stone, perfectly formed, aligned, symmetric, the blue light streaming about from nowhere, the shadows lurking in the edges of the room, held at bay by the glow that warms and protects, nothing like the glow that only consumed and leeched.

“The crystal chamber,” he gasps out suddenly, almost spilling his coffee on the table with how fast he jerks upright and stands, his eyes wide and excited. Pryna and Umbra both hurry to their feet, excitedly barking and yipping. “Last I saw the dream catcher, I was in the crystal chamber, not the real deal, but in my _dreams_. Can you access it? We have to check it out!”

Ignis blinks owlishly for a moment and Prompto would find it endlessly amusing to find the normally so composed advisor so well and truly thrown, but right now is not the time to tease one another. An urgency settles inside his bones that cannot be quenched, like something is watching him, looming over him and egging him on because he is on the right track. To where, he is not sure, but it must be important if Eos or the crystal or whoever works so tirelessly to lead him there. “Certainly,” the other says at last and Gladio is already getting up. “The chamber was badly damaged, but I believe it has been deemed stable for the time being. I should be able to grant us entrance.”

“How you always wind up with the key for everything…” Gladio shakes his head in amusement and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Lead the way, Specs. Just like in the good old days.”

∞

It is surprisingly easy to gain access to the crystal chamber, the most heavily guarded room in the entire kingdom; at least it was, once upon a time. Prompto feels small and solemn in front of the ancient double doors, colours upon colours of depictions engraved and moulded into the metal and marble. The crystal itself sits at the centre, its glow perfectly captured by the decorations and it is almost like looking at the real thing again, a small shard of which is warming the skin above his breastbone right in that moment.

The doors open soundlessly before them when Ignis is done talking to the few guards standing by and Prompto wonders idly how these heavy, old doors manage to make no sound at all. The inside is just like he remembers it from his dream, only the real deal is much more imposing and vast and so _empty_. The loss of the heart’s shard is palpable, hanging over the room like a thick, suffocating miasma. It lifts somewhat when he steps foot into the room.

Pillars after pillars hold the high ceiling and the room seems so oversized for the crystal to be harboured in it. Parts of the chamber lie in ruins, as opposed to his dream. There is a large hole along the wall, sun streaming in from the outside. Cracks litter the walls and stone pillars, some of them are even enforced by wooden frames, ropes and large beams. The centre is not glowing like it did in his dream and the shadows are much longer, looming and grasping, but he feels a swell of strength in his heart and the crystal around his neck emits so much light it is visible even through his clothing. Ignis comes to stand to his left, Gladio to his right, both noticing the blue light, but they look straight ahead.

There, tiny and unassuming, sits the animal from his dream. Snow-white fur, long ears that are angled towards them in attention, its equally long tail swishing lazily behind it. The red ruby embedded into its forehead pulses eerily. The carbuncle’s head is tilted, attentive and listening, almost contemplating.

Pryna’s bark breaks the silence that has settled around them and Umbra pushes insistently against Prompto’s legs to urge him onward, towards the dream catcher. He goes with it, stepping ever closer and the small creature does not twitch an inch, not startled or fearful, just observing him with intelligent eyes.

Once he reaches it, all guidance leaves him. Both Pryna and Umbra fall quiet and unmoving, seated next to him, watching the carbuncle intently, but it does not even acknowledge them. Its eyes are firmly fixed to Prompto’s, who cannot help but stare back. In that moment, he is not even sure if Gladio and Ignis stayed behind or followed him here, if they are talking to him or are as eerily silent as the whole chamber is. All that exists, right now, is this fluffy animal; a key piece in the puzzle Eos presented him with and wants him to complete. Hope is rearing its head in his chest; hope that this might mean he can see Noctis again, how and why and when, that is of no importance, but the prospect of doing so, that is what warms his very insides and sends a chill down his arms.

The carbuncle suddenly opens its mouth, as if to speak, and yawns widely, breaking the spell that kept Prompto so transfixed. He hears Gladio chuckling beside him and cannot help but smile a little as well. There are three distinct, shrill sounds echoing through the chamber, one of them Prompto identifies as his phone and feels it vibrate with an incoming text message. For a moment, all three of them are unsure how to proceed, but the carbuncle stands, its tail swishing excitedly behind it as it looks at them expectantly.

 _Hello, Prompto Argentum,_ his text reads, when he takes his phone out and swipes to open it. There is no number, no contact, who sent the message, as if it just appeared on his phone. He glances over to his friends, who wear an expression like they experience a similar thing. That is reassuring at least. Another sound, another text. This one makes the air catch in his throat.

_My name is Carbuncle. Thank you for finding me!_

His eyes flit over to the small, delicate creature, now flanked by Umbra and Pryna. These three animals, wherever they may come from and wherever they may lead him, they are the embodiment of a hope, he has not dared to indulge in for the last fifteen years. His hands shake with barely contained excitement and the painful squeezes of doubt that hold on to his heart.

“You are… welcome?” It is more of a question than an answer, but Carbuncle – obviously that is its name rather than the description for its race – does not seem to mind.

_You carry the last shard of the crystal, Prompto, the last embodied piece of the planet’s soul. And this soul has a counterpart it’s looking for. I can help find it._

“What do you need?” Prompto’s breath leaves him in a rush as he forces out the words, his throat tight and he is so wound up that it is a miracle he is still standing upright. Pryna comes over to him and leans against him and it is a good excuse to kneel down from unsteady legs and pet her. Carbuncle observes them for a spell, Ignis and Gladio are quiet next to him except for their calm breaths and the occasional rustle of clothes. It blinks slowly at them.

 _Might I see the crystal shard?_ The next text reads.

It does not cross his mind to hesitate, but he holds on to the necklace’s chain as he takes the shard from his neck and offers it to Carbuncle. His muscles tense in anticipation, ready to yank the precious item back towards him in case the animal is not what it claims to be, but for a long moment, nothing happens. Carbuncle stares at the glowing piece, before getting up and padding towards his outstretched hand. The ruby on its forehead gleams and a burst of light explodes from where it touches the crystal shard. Gladio grunts in pain next to him and the sound that comes from Ignis is close to that of a badly hurt animal. Prompto startles, the muscles in his arm jumping as if to retract it, but when he looks at it after the glaring light clears out, it has not moved an inch.

But when the lighting returns to normal, the crystal’s shard is still whole, Carbuncle still sitting before his hand and it is almost like nothing has changed. Except for the cool, blue glow that now streams through all of the crystal chamber, banishing the shadows that loom in the corners. There is no crystal here, no soul of the planet, except for the piece resting in his palm, still the place is lit up like all of Eos’s soul is permeating everything.

Suddenly, Prompto feels a calm wash over him, looking at that gleam that is somehow situated in the middle of the room, over Carbuncle and it is exactly the scene of his dream. It is like he is back on Ravatogh, nerves frayed and emotions anxious and brittle, Eos’s arms enveloping him, safe and sound, warmth on his skin from the first rays of a dawning sun after a long cold night. Goosebumps pebble over his skin rapidly as he stares into the shimmer until his eyes water and hurt from the light.

He only looks away when he feels something wet and rough touch the back of his hand. Carbuncle is nuzzling at his still outstretched limb, its penetrating eyes still completely focussed on him. Its ears are attentively angled towards him and its cold, wet nose is touching his skin. _It’s okay,_ those eyes tell him, _everything will be fine_ , and he aches with the need to believe in that unspoken promise. His fingers find their way into Carbuncles fur, stroking it softly and the animal lets out the tiniest noise of content, high and purring, its eyelids lowering in pleasure, before it perks up. Their phones chime in unison with an incoming text message.

 _Meet me at the last royal tomb at dawn,_ the message reads and Prompto opens his mouth to ask which royal tomb it means, but Carbuncle is completely quiet on its feet as it darts to the gaping hole in the outer wall where the setting sun is streaming in.

“Wait!” the blonde calls, scrambling to his feet, but the dream catcher is already gone, a flash of blue light as it jumps into the depths of the Citadel. None of them bothers to see whether it is falling or has disappeared. Prompto would bet money on the latter.

They stand there in stunned silence for a few moments, the glacial shimmer slowly fading from the room now that Carbuncle is gone. The room is left as it was before, except it is missing its oppressive feeling. Now, it is all warmth and homecoming, rather than the lingering taste of the leeching, crippling force that resided inside all those years ago. Pryna and Umbra are eerily quiet as well, sitting in front of them, merely watching and observing. Gladio sighs, crouches down and the black dog is quick to nuzzle his hand that strokes him gently.

“Another riddle,” he grouches without heat and Umbra snorts softly, playfully snapping for his fingers without actually biting him. “Hey, not my fault we lowly humans are not so keen on the mind games you divine people like so much.” Umbra only whines and licks his fingers with care, almost as if in apology.

Meanwhile, Ignis removes his glasses and cleans them. His brow is creased in contemplation, surely already trying to understand where Carbuncle wants them to be in the morning. With the sun already setting, they only have a few hours until they are supposed to meet it. The crystal settles around Prompto’s neck before he stands and turns towards his friends, momentarily at loss for words. Pryna sits down beside him, sticking close and looking up with her bright, big eyes, her tail excitedly wriggling. He picks her up then and nuzzles his face into her soft fur. She settles as comfortably as she can in his arms and gives his face a few wet licks.

“So, tell me, girl. Do we have to get Carbuncle’s meaning ourselves or are you planning on helping?” he asks with a laugh. She touches her nose to his face, but no words echo through his mind. She settles back, obviously satisfied with her not-answer and he sighs. “Okay, we get it, you’re not helping.”

Ignis chuckles warmly, as he puts his glasses back. “Since we only have a few hours left until dawn, I advise we focus on deciphering where we need to be in the morning.”

Prompto cannot help but be astonished and thankful that they both want to come along. It is not like he is surprised; he suspected they _would_ , but hearing Ignis say it out loud, knowing they are in this together – yet again – that is heartening to hear.

“The last royal tomb, huh?” Gladio muses, staring thoughtfully at Umbra, who lies on his back in front of him, waiting for the tall man to continue his belly rub. “We visited all of them before the darkness and Noct had all the weapons. I don’t really remember which one was the last one.”

“I doubt it matters.” Ignis says, already typing away on his phone, before turning it around and showing them the picture he pulled up. It is a little blurry, Prompto notices, but he knows exactly what is depicted, knows exactly where that place is. It does look like all the other royal tombs, if it was not for the blue, blooming flowers flanking the stone structure. It stands on green meadows and behind it the cliff fall deep into the roaring sea. The wind is salty and strong there, he knows it, stood there, for hours on end. “By all means, this _is_ a royal tomb, the newest, the _last_ , literally.” The advisor’s voice is soft, but the words cut through Prompto like a hot knife.

“How fitting…” Gladio breathes out, his eyes as transfixed on the image as Prompto’s, and when he manages to tear his gaze away, he looks away for a moment, steeling his expression. “We should get some rest and then head there before the sun rises.”

Ignis shakes his head in denial and only when he pockets his phone does Prompto blink and refocus. “It’s a three-hour drive from here. We’d have to get up very early to make it in time, not to speak of the questions it will rouse from the guards and, consequently, the government.” He adjusts his glasses and looks at them both with sharp eyes, but a warm expression. “Perhaps something a little more nostalgic is in order.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry for the cliffy :D I think it's kinda obvious what the nostalgic thing is? ;)


	5. Stellis Claratus Nox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to all the people commenting, reading and kudos'ing. I really appreciate your support and I'm super glad you like this story.
> 
> I'm currently changing some last minute stuff about the last chapter. There will probably only be one more chapter (excitement!!). At least, only one I planned to write. It is not done yet (I'm obviously super slow at writing at the moment. holy shit.) and it's just wrestling with me. Let's see how it'll turn out. I apologise in advance if the last chapter might take some time. I hope you can bear with me!
> 
> Anyway, don't let this dampen this chapter. It's kinda **the** chapter of this story. The next one, I can promise, is mostly wrap up ;) Have fun!

They go camping is what Ignis means and Prompto feels giddy and excited by the prospect of re-enacting the past with his friends like this. Gladio’s spirit is also lifted by Ignis’s idea and he looks so much younger, a happy expression on his scarred face, his hands busily sorting through the camping equipment as he secures it in the trunk of the sleek, black SUV that Ignis presented them as their automobile for this endeavour. She is certainly no Regalia, less graceful and lacking the numerous features, but she is also still running and in one piece – _as opposed to the Regalia_ , Prompto thinks sadly. She had been a truly beautiful car.

Ignis is off to the side, talking to Cor, who observes Gladio’s work by the vehicle, his arms crosses and expression severe. He nods occasionally to whatever the other is saying, but when his gaze travels to settle on Prompto, he is zeroing in on the blonde like he is not having a conversation at all. _It’s rude to stare_ , the other muses agitatedly and keeps himself busy helping Gladio out with loading all their things into the car. When Ignis finally joins them, Cor is nowhere to be seen. Prompto makes a questioning sound in the back of his throat.

“He agreed to keep this whole thing a secret for now.” Ignis tells them, the keys dangling from his finger as he saunters over, just as Gladio closes the trunk with a resounding bang. “We’re on vacation, Gladio, spending time with a friend we haven’t seen in years.” That much is true, at least the last bit. Guilty, Prompto’s cheeks fill with heat, but Gladio just nudges his shoulder in camaraderie. _It’s fine_ , the gesture says without words, _Don’t worry_. So he tries not to worry.

“But we are due to return in at least a week from now or it will rouse questions.” Now, that the city is somewhat revived again, steadily rebuilding and growing, is not the best time to spend several weeks on a spontaneous vacation. Prompto can understand that to some extent. They are needed here. He just hopes that whatever happens tomorrow will not lead them to only more questions, but to some answers for a change.

When they hit the road, the evening is still young and the sun has just set, gleaming on the horizon and painting the sky in pretty orange hues. Prompto leans out of the window to gaze at it and enjoy the cool, strong wind that plays with his hair. It is almost as it was fifteen years ago and if he closes his eyes, he nearly manages to imagine what it would be like to open his eyes to the rolled down roof of the Regalia, the passing scenery of greens and life and beauty, Ignis in the front seat, drinking his Ebony from cans with a grace that cannot be rivalled, Gladio in the back, reading a book without growing queasy, the wind ruffling his unruly hair. And Noctis… sleeping comfortably against the soft leather of the Regalia’s back seat, his head pillowed in his arms against the door, looking relaxed and unburdened by the world in his sleep.

Prompto does not dare to close his eyes after imaging that, dread and sadness pooling in his stomach like a thick, toxic substance. He glances to his left and finds Pryna and Umbra curled up around one another, but there is no Noctis. Gladio is sitting in front of him, his book nowhere in sight, and while Ignis drives, there is no can of Ebony in his hand or even by the console because there has not been any Ebony for over ten years. They are not in the Regalia and he is not twenty anymore, but thirty-five going on thirty-six and Noctis is not sitting next to him, not sleeping, not pulling cute faces, not playing King’s Knight on his phone.

 _Because he’s dead_ , some part of Prompto’s mind shrieks, but he refuses to fall for these depressive thoughts. His gaze resettles on the night sky, where the stars are slowly starting to show.

Insomnia passes by in a blur, all illuminated signs and streets, people bustling about, traffic and life, so much life again. It is a dizzying thought, especially because he remembers it to be so empty when they came back to defeat Ardyn at the Citadel five years ago. Back then, it was overrun by daemons, grotesque and empty and scary. Now, it still scares Prompto, but for other reasons.

He manages to doze lightly when they leave Insomnia, the gates growing smaller behind them and the lights growing fainter. The stars are brighter here than they were in a city as big as Insomnia. They shine beautifully against the pitch-black sky, blazing in perfect harmony with the full moon that guides their path. The street is lined with lamps and there are still a lot of cars on the street, a stark contrast to how life had been led up until now. Even before the darkness, nobody would willingly leave the safety of the city after nightfall. During the darkness, everybody tried to not leave any tiny secure place at all.

∞

A voice calls him and there is a gentle shake on his shoulder that makes Prompto resurface from his sleep slowly. His neck and arms are stiff and his face feels cold from too much time spent keeping it in the cold, night breeze. He rubs his eyes sleepily and blinks to clear his vision. He must have fallen asleep after all.

“We’re here, Prom. Let’s get the tent set up so we can catch some shut-eye.” Gladio says quietly, smiles and then leaves him to wake up fully. Outside, it is almost completely dark, but he can see Ignis walking around with a flashlight, most likely picking out the right spot. Gladio joins him shortly after, while Prompto still tries to get his bearings back together. Umbra and Pryna are nowhere in sight and he suspects they are also already outside. He stretches his tired limbs, before he opens the door and steps out.

He hears the roar of the sea before he smells and tastes the salt in the air. It is peaceful here, no noises except for that of the waves crashing against the cliff, no cars, no chatter, just idle nature. Ahead, he sees the silhouette of the tomb, lit by two large torches that burn with magical, blue fire, flickering with a ghostly breeze.

He stares for a moment because there is the stone structure he has always feared to see again. The mausoleum that is the final resting place of Noctis, his father Regis and his mother Aulea sits tall against the black horizon and the bright moon. Sylleblossom surround it, in full bloom, swaying gently in the salty winds. The structure is built from white marble that all but glows in the moonshine and it is of simple design, the royal crest on its silver gates.

Prompto knows from memory that the sides are engraved with depictions from the Cosmogony. Now, after knowing what he knows from Eos, the blonde wants to laugh and cry at the irony of it all, but his throat is dry and closed up. He promised himself never to return to this place, not after putting Noctis to rest five years ago, when everything was still raw and bleeding and hurting so badly. But now that he is here, he cannot help but feel relief that he has made it back; like coming home. Not like coming back to Insomnia felt, but like he is truly home now. He wonders briefly what this feeling might _mean_ , but is interrupted by Ignis calling for him. He tears his eyes away from the tomb looming in the distance, up the cliff, and goes to join his friends.

It is so nice, being with them, camping; it is like he is in his late teens again, only this time nobody dies, there are no Niffs chasing them across the country and no daemons to haunt them at night. The fire that Gladio skilfully set up roars in the centre of their small camping site, three camping chairs settled around it and a tent off to the side. It is strangely close to their road trip fifteen years ago and Prompto knows both Ignis and Gladio are acutely aware of it, but nobody voices their thoughts. The space Noct’s vacated is still obviously empty, gaping.

They talk a little over a beer or two, but it is late and Ignis advises they soon turn in because dawn is only a few more hours away. The wind is howling now and the sea soars against the cliff and Prompto is very sure he will not catch much sleep tonight. He is unsettled and twitchy, not only but also because of the tomb that sits up the hill and holds the key to all his fears and sorrows. He lies down next to Ignis after fishing out his contacts and slipping into some more comfortable clothes. The other is busily tugging away his own glasses and fixing his beddings. Gladio is rummaging around outside and securing the fire for the night.

Despite himself, Prompto falls asleep as soon as he hits the pillow, his eyes drifting shut on their own account, his mind blessedly dimming into nothingness as he listens to the sounds of his friends getting ready for bed.

∞

Dreaming of Noctis is nothing new to Prompto, so he is not overly surprised to see this dream features his deceased best friend as well. He kind of anticipated it; after all, he has been set on a path that may or may not lead to him after all since meeting Eos on Ravatogh.

The scenery around them is swirling brightly, mixed up moments from their journey, sprinkles of Hammerhead, the Disk, the Vesperpool, Cape Caem, Gralea, Insomnia. Prompto feels dizzy with it, but Noctis is like an anchor. He does not move at all until the world around them settles for the top of a cliff by the sea, all muted colours and stormy, raging sea in the depth behind them. The blonde focuses on his friend’s face, trying to make out his age, if it is the young or the older Noctis he is dreaming of, but those features are watery and ever-changing. It makes Prompto nauseous, but Noct’s eyes, those are still the same. Clear and bright and drilling into his, fixing him with a stare so intense that the blonde feels stripped to his soul.

 _Prompto!_ , he calls, but his mouth is closed; the voice, though, is most certainly Noctis’s and it echoes through the silence around them. The sound bounces around like it is reflected by invisible walls and cuts into Prompto’s head like the sharp edge of a dagger. He cannot move, frozen in place, staring ahead as the other slowly strides closer. His features do not settle and it is like looking at a bad, blurry photograph for too long, the kind of thing that always makes Prompto’s eyes and head _hurt_. But where he otherwise would tear his eyes away to evade the unpleasant feeling, he cannot help but watch dream Noctis; that face that he knows so well is twisted in sadness, then excitement, then anger, anguish, laughter, fear, never settling.

The whole scene halts abruptly when Noctis opens his mouth. His features settle for that older, rugged look that he had five years ago, all unshaven grace, looking so much like his father did back when he was still alive. His eyes shine like beacons in this dream that seems fogged over with a veil. There is a smile playing over his lips, those perfect lips that Prompto has spent hours sighing over when he was younger and had not yet dared to approach the prince. It is the most beautiful thing he has seen in a long time.

“Prompto!” he says and it is warm and comforting and Prompto’s eyes immediately tear up because even if he knows this is a dream, he wants this to be true, _needs_ this to be true. Hands settle on his upper arm, pleasantly, a strong but soothing grip to them. This feels nothing like the other dreams did and it leaves him struggling to comprehend.

He is tugged into a warm, _lively_ chest, firm arms encircling him and Noctis’s head settles on his shoulder. His black hair tickles Prompto’s ear and the blonde is hyper aware of every inch of Noct he can _feel_ and it feels so real that he has to dig his nails into the other’s back to hold it together.

“I’m so… sorry for all this, Prom.” His voice is quiet, halting because Noctis has always been bad at expressing himself and apologising. The small sentence hits right home. “I’ll make it right…” he trails off and his hold on Prompto tightens marginally. Now, his tone is all regret, but conviction and a gasp shudders through the blonde’s throat. He gasps for air as his tears flow freely, clutching Noct against him because he knows he will disappear as soon as Prompto wakes up.

Noctis is not there when the blonde startles awake, cheeks tear-stained, gasping and hiccupping for breath. He is surprised that Ignis and Gladio as still asleep despite how much noise he must have made. He stumbles outside into the cool air that tastes of salt and rotten water. Gulls cry in to the distance and he sees them circling over the cliff, illuminated by the moon.

The dream has devastated him, that tiny flicker of hope that had waited to bloom into a full-blown fire dwindles and dies because hope hurts. Hope makes empty promises and makes him dream of fantasy happy endings, of chances he never took and moments he never had and never will have. He sits by the ashes of their fire, shivering and miserable and crying like a small, lost child.

∞

Umbra and Pryna find him like that later and Prompto has no recollection of how long he has been sitting there, in his thin shirt and sweatpants, hugging himself and staring into the ambers without moving a muscle. They finally get his attention with soft, quiet whines and yips, licks and nudges.

They look excited, barely contained energy and happiness and Prompto thinks they might be trying to be silent as not to wake up the others. Umbra races off into the night, while Pryna stays behind to herd the human after him. He follows them, in a daze, exhausted and so bone-deep weary. His head is empty, but it is hurting as is his heart. The grass beneath his bare feet is cold and damp, rustling with the incoming winds.

The further they get away from camp, the louder both dogs get, barking and tumbling about and Prompto manages a smile. Whatever happens, he is grateful that he found these two again. Looking at them makes him remember, but they are individuals and they care deeply. It shows in the way Umbra always waits just at the edge of visibility if Prompto and Pryna are following safely, in the way that Pryna sticks close and keeps the blonde’s uneasiness about the darkness at bay.

When the flickering lights of the royal tomb come into view, both dogs charge off into the small patches of blooming Sylleblossoms. They sit down there, barking softly, their tails disturbing the flowers around them and numerous pedals are blown away by the incoming breeze towards Prompto and past him. He watches them disappear into the night and when he turns back, he merely manages to startle briefly.

There, in front of the two dogs, amidst the blossoms stands a figure, all white, blazing light, but they are translucent, flickering and flowing, like they might be blown away at any moment. It is a woman, all fair hair and skin, serene smile upon her lips. Her hair is done artfully, not a single strand out of place, a single Sylleblossom flower woven into it. Her white dress is moving with the wind; it is simple, as far as Prompto can judge it, but it is still beautiful and fits her well. Her face has not aged a day since he last saw her, back in Altissia, run through by Ardyn’s blade before her body was swallowed up by the raging seas.

 _Luna_. She crouches down to greet the dogs, _her_ dogs and they are overjoyed to see her. Her eyes are bright, but saddened and her smile is the same.

At last, she looks up and beckons him over. Prompto’s movements are stilted and rusty, his joints want to remain frozen in place, while his brain tries to urge them onward. His mind is swirling with questions and he is pretty sure this is still a dream.

“Prompto.” Her voice is all bells and bright sunshine. She rises and regards him warmly, before she reaches out and takes his hands into hers. Luna, or perhaps Luna’s ghost, ignores his startle at the sudden contact because her hands are warm despite her ghostly appearance. “Thank you… thank you for everything you did, back then and now, and for everything you will still do.” Her eyes water and tears drop from them over her ivory cheeks like rain.

“I didn’t do anything…” he manages to choke out, feeling entirely out of his depths, his voice nothing more than a whisper. Her expression softens infinitely and she leans towards him, her lips touching his hurting forehead and suddenly, the hurt is gone. A warmth radiates from the very spot she just touched and envelops him like a downy, comfortable blanket, shielding him against every pain and hurt and sadness and cold. The feeling lessens when she leans back, but the remains are still there, tingling along his icy skin into the very core of his being.

“You did everything.” she says simply and inclines her head, like she must bow before _him_ and not the other way around. Prompto is stunned into silence.

“Please, take good care of them…” Her smile is brilliant and in that exact moment, the night sky starts to change in colour. The dawn has come. The wind picks up suddenly, playing with his hair and Luna’s as well. She smiles as her form fades and Prompto tries pathetically to keep her here, grasping at her vanishing hands that are still so warm in his.

“What are you talking about? Where are you going?” he asks frantically, his eyes searching hers and she laughs.

“My time has passed, Prompto Argentum. Yours has just begun.” Her gaze is knowing and her eyes sparkle with happiness. She looks peaceful like this.

It is the last he sees of Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, last of the oracles and the last princess of Tenebrae, who has been dead for fifteen years, slain to protect this planet. His hands stay up in the air, like she is still holding them and he stares at the spot where she stood just moments ago. Umbra and Pryna are silent, but they do not look sad. They look up to him, expectantly, tails wagging like they have not just lost their mistress, again.

“I don’t understand any of this.” Prompto says brokenly and lets his arms fall to his side. In lieu of answering, the dogs turn their heads towards the tomb’s entrance, before watching him again. In the distance the sun begins its ascent and the gulls cry.

∞

The silvery gate opens for him without a sound, much like the doors to the crystal chamber did back at the Citadel. Prompto expected darkness, but the tomb is lit with the same magical, blue lights that sit outside to guide travellers. Dots of light float in the air and part for him when he enters. It is wondrous and if it was not for the circumstances, the blonde would have surely taken a photo or ten of the interior of the tomb.

This one is nothing like the others they visited during their quest, despite its exterior. For one, it is quite spacious and so lively with all the lights around. Windows litter the eastern and western side, small, barred ones, but they are enough to let the sparse light of the early dawn in. Pryna and Umbra’s claws click loudly on the marble floor that is devoid of any dust or dirt. In the very centre, there are three instead of one coffin made of stone. Large, obsidian plaques sit in front of every one of them, carrying the names of those deceased and resting here. Prompto does not need to read it to know which one belongs to Noctis and which ones to his parents.

He walks closer slowly, his gaze flitting over the room before it settles on the coffin at the centre and its tombstone. Prompto recalls being here, five years ago, similarly exhausted like he feels in this moment, sad and broken and _lost_ , laying his best friend to rest.

The sun was warming his back that day, as he watched Gladio and Ignis enter the tomb. It had been very festive, solemn and sad. People, so many people, had littered the cliff and he recalled wondering if these were all the people left on Eos. The tomb had been here for years, as he had understood it, originally built for Queen Aulea, when she died way before Prompto even knew Noctis. But back then, it must have looked differently and a lot of the present people had helped change the resting place to fit three people.

Now, it seems foolish to waste time on giving the dead a proper burial when you are barely getting by yourself, one foot in the grave because food and water are sparse and housings are torn to the ground. Back then, it had been the only thing Prompto and many others could think about. He had left the burial early, unable to fully enter the mausoleum, unable to stand the sobs and tears and speeches any longer than he had.

Umbra’s bark tears him from his thoughts and he startles, whirling around, expecting to see Gladio or Ignis or something dangerous lurking there at the entrance, but instead it is Carbuncle. Its paws make no sound on the floor as it walks over, eyes bright and ears alert. The ruby on its head shines blue now instead of red, glowing eerily, in harmony with the bustling light specks around them.

Prompto stares for a moment, before crouching down. Pryna yips softly to his right, when Carbuncle comes closer and touches his hand with its small face. His phone beeps with an incoming text. _Strange_ , the blonde muses with a small smile, _that a celestial whatever would use a mobile phone as communication_.

 _Thank you for coming, Prompto!_ , it says and he can almost feel the excitement buzzing from the creature in front of him. _I retrieved the shard’s counterpart. Now, you only need to put the crystal back on its resting place._

“Before I do anything here, I wanna know what’s going _on_.” Prompto says suddenly, his eyes leaving his phone to settle on Carbuncle again. “What are we doing here? Why do you need me to do it?” His phone chimes again.

 _Place the crystal shard on its rightful resting place_ , it says as if that explains anything at all. _You’ll see then._ , comes the next text rapid-fire afterwards and Carbuncle nudges him to get moving. Outside, the dawn comes.

When he does not move immediately, Umbra presses his head into his forearm and an urgent _Do it, Prompto!_ echoes through his head. His muscles move on autopilot, even if he does not comprehend any of this. The crystal shard is warm and weightless in his hand, when he unfastens it from his neck. It shines brighter than ever before, pulsing to an imaginary beat, much like a very slow heartbeat, slow but strong and deep, vibrating over Prompto’s skin, seeping into his muscles and bones. The feeling is both comfortable and frightening. He places it carefully on Noctis’s coffin, the decision completely out of his hand; some part of him knows it belongs there, while the rest of him is swept along like he is drowning in a raging sea.

For a few moments, nothing happens at all. It is like time is standing still and every kind of movement takes tremendous effort, even breathing, even the beating of his heart. His throat is tight and there is a strange anticipation unfurling inside of him, waiting and hoping and _for what_ he is not sure.

Then, suddenly, everything happens at once. The shard glows ever brighter and the blue light dots floating around in the room are drawn to it, flocking around it and dancing. They change colours, exactly the same as the lights on Mount Ravatogh did, small rainbows. They swirl and twist and collide with the shard only to be reflected, springing inwards and outwards rapidly. Prompto’s hand is still hovering close and he feels the heat they are radiating. When they touch his skin, they do not feel hot or cold, but they cause goose bumps all over his body whenever they do.

Then, everything seems to calm down, the lights hover over the crystal which is dimming gradually. All light sources in the room dim with the shard, the flares extinguish, the specks shrink and die. Prompto hears one of the dogs, he cannot tell who, whine by his feet but he cannot see them anymore as the room is plunged into darkness. A strange feeling of urgency grips him and before the crystal’s light completely dies, he scrambles to gather it up again. In his hands, the shard is both icy and scorching and it flares up brightly when he touches it. An excited bark and then the shard breaks.

Everything halts again; his heart seems to stop beating, his breath catches in his throat and his eyes strain to see what is happening in the bright light cradled close in his hands. Before he can form any thought at all, the broken pieces of the shard burst into specks of light and Prompto clamps his eyes shut. Behind his lids, he can still see the brightness seeping through and only when it is gone does he dare to open them again.

The whole room is lit with hundreds of thousands of tiny light balls that buzz around, change colours and twirl around him. He cannot see the ceiling of the tomb anymore, nor the windows that should let in the first rays of the morning sun by now, or the walls that he knows should be right there. It is like he is staring at the night sky, no moon in sight, no big city lights that dim the stars. All velvet blackness decorated with countless glittering dots. Some of the specks race through the room like shooting stars.

There was never time to appreciate the beauty of the night before. Not before the ten-year darkness, when night meant daemons and death. Not afterwards either. This, though, this is the pure, unadulterated glory of a moonless night. He thinks, he hears the laughter of a woman in the distance and feels her short embrace for the blink of an eye. Then it is gone and suddenly the moon rises, but rather than dimming the stars around it, they shine in perfect harmony.

An urgent bark startles him and he whips his head down from where he watched the spectacle above him, to see Carbuncle, flanked by Umbra and Pryna sitting on the lid of the stone coffin in front of him. Noctis’s coffin is layered over with a glowing blanket of light specks, pulsing, but unmoving. Once the three creatures have his attention, Umbra starts scratching at the lid, his claws leaving deep marks on the stony exterior.

“What are you doing, Umbra?” the blonde asks and flinches at how loud his voice echoes through the otherwise empty room. “You’re damaging it!” He tries reaching for the dog, but Umbra merely snaps at him and his powerful jaws create a loud, booming sound, but he does not hit Prompto. A warning. The scratching picks up, but this time it is Carbuncle and Pryna, who have joined in on the questionable fun. The white dog whines pitifully, when the blonde remains frozen in place.

“Will you stop it now?” he demands, trying to swat Pryna away, but she catches his hand with her jaws and before he can react, she is pressing his hand against the cold stone of the coffin in front of him. Instantly, the glowing blanket lifts everywhere else and tendrils of hot and cold lights weave around his arms, up to his shoulders. Before he can panic, the tendrils move and his muscles comply, pushing the coffin lid. Awed, he watches as the lid slides off the casket like it weighs nothing and while his muscles strain, it is not hard work to push the heavy stone plate.

It crashes to the floor with a loud noise and the tendrils leave his arms. The night sky above him vanishes, lights rushing into the now open coffin in front of him and Prompto has not time to try and comprehend what is happening ere the light explosively bursts from inside the stone. The shockwave hurls him backwards against the nearest pillar. The impact shocks the air from his lungs and he roles to his side to cough and catch his breath again. When his breathing normalises, the room is pitch black and eerily silent. He hears the shuffling of the dogs and Carbuncle somewhere, but his orientation is completely off. The world is spinning, even if he does not see it and it makes his stomach turn. _There should be light,_ he thinks frantically, _Gladio and Ignis should be here by now. Where is the damn sun?_ He feels around as he stands up. The pillar is cold and unmoving behind him and it is a greater relief than it should be.

A short distance away, he hears something else now and both dogs shuffle about, if in excitement or fear, he cannot say. They bark sharply and Prompto holds his breath as he stares into the darkness around him, trying to make out anything at all. Another strange sound echoes through the room, sure sign he is still inside the royal tomb and this sound gives him pause. That… sounded like a laugh? He strains to hear it again and surely, there it is. The dogs yip softly and now Prompto is sure it is in excitement. There is the distinct noise of a dog tongue slurping across something and the laughter gets louder, out of breath and rusty and he _knows_ this laughter.

“Noct…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even sorry about this cliffy. The situation called for it and I delivered! Please don't hate me ;)


	6. Evigilatio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much everybody for reading this fic. I really appreciate it!
> 
> I've been super busy this last month and I was still missing a suitable ending for the story. This last chapter is really short compared to the other chapters, but I felt like I'd draw the ending out too much by writing an overly long chapter. So I tried to keep it short and precise for once. 
> 
> I'm super dissatisfied with this last chap, except for the ending itself. I felt like there was so much I could talk about, but then it would take away your chance at imaging certain things. 
> 
> So anyway. Thanks again for reading and commenting and kudos'ing and bookmarking and drawing and talking about this story! I hope it was as fun to read as it was to write! 
> 
> See you for the next story, maybe :)

“Noct…?” Prompto breathes quietly before he can catch the sound and the room tilts in front of him. Suddenly, there are rays from the rising sun, still soft and delicate, streaming through the windows on the eastern side. He hears the gulls outside, the roaring of the waves as they crash into the solid rock of the cliff over and over again. And there, illuminated by the lights dancing around him and the sun from outside, surrounded by Umbra and Pryna and Carbuncle, who are as all over him as Prompto wants to be, sits Noctis, eyes wide as they bore into the blonde’s.

His hair is in perfect disarray and the kingly raiment he is still wearing is so wrinkled and dirty that the only thing Prompto can think about is how Ignis will flip if he sees him. But he will flip anyway, as will Gladio because how can Noctis be here?

_This is just a dream_ , a pitiful voice in Prompto’s head cries out suddenly and he flinches bodily away from the realisation. His vision is blurry suddenly, so blurry he cannot see dream Noctis anymore, who looks so beautiful and _alive_. A sob tears through his throat, breathy and sharp, compressed agony and hopelessness. The fight leaves his body, shaking legs giving out as he crumbles. _A dream_ , that voice sounds suspiciously like it belongs to Ardyn, but it is not taunting and malicious, but infinitely sad.

Something scrambles and crashes then, but he is too shaken to acknowledge it. A murmur, a deep scratchy voice, a voice that he knows, but Prompto is shaking his head to dispel the cruel fantasy. Warmth envelops him then, strong, built arms wrap around him and he is tugged into a chest that he also knew once but not anymore. His tears wet the heavy mantle under his cheek and the dream even smells the same as he remembers Noctis did, but this cannot be, he cannot be real.

“You’re fine, Prom. Breathe with me.” He is rocked by the body in front of him and Prompto presses his eyes shut, fearing it will be Ignis or Gladio, who try to get him out of his panic attack and not Noctis. That the coffin will be as it was before, closed and idle. That the dawn will have changed nothing at all. That Umbra and Pryna and Carbuncle are gone and that there was never an astral named Eos.

_A dream_. The thought leaves him gutted and hollow and he gasps for air, his chest constricting painfully. Hands take hold of his head and his right ear is pressed into that chest. Over the rushing of his own blood in his ears, he hears the tell-tale beating of a heart, quick and fluttering in panic, and the rumbling of air through the lungs.

“It’s fine, Prom.”

“You’re fine.”

“I’m here.”

“Breathe with me.”

“Prompto…”

The words carrying him through the panic and his breath returns in short, shallow gasps. It takes long before he can finally get some air into his lungs properly, all the while clinging to the one he thinks, he _hopes_ is truly Noctis Lucis Caelum, his best friend, who has _died_ , but is somehow here now, maybe, _hopefully_.

With the panic ebbing away, his mind is blissfully blank, exhausted and emptied. He is sleepy, weary, cold and every single muscle in his body seems to hurt. He does not pull away though, too scared to find it is indeed not Noctis, who has his arms wrapped around him and who cradles him close. The man still murmurs comforting nothings into his blonde hair, his breath ghosting over Prompto’s scalp and leaving shivers in its wake.

He is dimly aware that there are other people in the room now. Gladio’s deep, shocked gasp resonates through the tomb like the sound of a hammer hitting an anvil and then, footsteps hurried but hesitant getting closer until they stop close by. Dream Noctis against him moves, but not away, his head lifts some and speaks and all Prompto can do is not wail again.

Now that he is more aware, the voice travels throughout his body, echoing through his brain and suddenly, he is calm. Not okay, not healed, but calm enough to breathe easily and pull away if only a short distance. He keeps his hands on Noctis’s arm where they held on to him hard enough to leave faint imprints that will surely bruise. Prompto does not dare to let his friend go just yet, afraid he will just vanish if they are no longer touching.

There is stunned silence, where everyone is trying to grasp the impossible. Nobody expected to find themselves back together like this, whole, not missing a fourth of their group, not missing a dear friend. It is Ignis, who breaks the silence and his eyes shine with wetness when Prompto looks at him as he falls to his knees beside them and envelops Noctis in the longest hug, the blonde has ever seen Iggy give someone. It shocks Gladio into action as well, who joins the hugging with a forced, relieved and raspy laughter. Prompto is tugged into it as well and he has never felt safer in his life than in this moment.

The glimmer of hope rears its head inside him and starts to bloom because, somehow, they did the impossible and Noctis is back; from the dead. And Prompto is hell-bent on never letting him go again.

∞

The morning finds them outside of the royal tomb, back at their camp, watching the rest of the sunrise together. Pryna is settled close to Prompto and dozing lightly by his feet, while Umbra and Carbuncle tumble all over Noctis. The fire is bright and roaring in their mid and Ignis procured the most delicious breakfast they have tasted in a long time, Noctis especially.

It is then that he notices that Ignis finds his way around the camp as easily as he used to do, before Altissia, before everything went wrong. And it is then that he notices his gaze is as clear as it was back then. He does not question it, but rather pulls his long-term friend in to tight hug, eyes shining with unshed tears, mumbling all the while, “I’m so glad, Ignis, I’m so glad”.

Gladio and Ignis speak about the time after the darkness, after Noctis’s death and the return of the dawn. They talk about purging the rest of the daemons that had not been eradicated, mostly hiding in the deepest, darkest places of the planet, about helping restore the cities that suffered from the Niflheim invasion, then the darkness and Ardyn’s occupation. Hearing that Insomnia is inhabited by people again has Noctis in tears of both joy and endless sadness, a grim reminder of the father he lost. The man, who now rests beside his wife up the hill behind them.

Noctis talks about his death and his fight against Ardyn in the Beyond. About the agony and then the relief of defeating him and bringing back the light. His voice is full of grief when he speaks of Ardyn and knowing what he glimpsed from Eos’s own tale, Prompto can relate. Noctis’s memory is patchy after that as he tells them about seeing Luna again, in the throne room, the king’s crown upon his head and the absolution he felt for a short moment.

“It’s strange to describe it…” he says haltingly, his eyes gazing into the fire, unseeing and far off. “It was like… when you find the last piece of a puzzle? And you already imagine, this is _it_ , this is the end, all gleeful and satisfied, but… it just does not fit the way it’s supposed to? Like… you can see the picture but it’s all jumbled and wrong and the piece just won’t fit, no matter what?”

His rough voice is smoother now, the more he uses it, Prompto notices. The other looks up and their gazes meet and it is like the blonde is struck with lightning from the glance, but he cannot tear his eyes away. Gladio huffs beside Prompto, crosses his arms and leans back from where he has crouched forward during Noctis’s narration.

“I don’t think anyone will ever really know what that feels like.” he answers gruffly, too smoothly and too nonchalant for anyone to buy his indifference.

“And I dare say, thank the Astrals for that.” Ignis agrees readily and Prompto merely nods along, casting Noctis a careful smile that is instantly returned. His stomach flutters briefly with the gesture and his face heats with something that has nothing to do with the warm rays of sunshine that fall on his skin or the heat radiating from the fire close by. Nobody notices and if they do, they do not comment.

It is like it was before everything went wrong. It is like they are fifteen years younger, unbowed and unbroken, the weight of the world lifted from their shoulders, finally. The first minutes, no hours, are awkward and strange; everybody is unused to Noctis and he to them, hell, Prompto is unused to being around people and interacting with them in general.

But afterwards, it is easier. And for the first time in years, the blonde does not feel bad about laughing, about joking and his own happiness. For the first time in years, he cannot wipe the smile from his face and hope is a good thing again.

∞

The evening creeps in on them and while he is reluctant to disrupt their intent conversation, Ignis finally proclaims he will prepare some dinner now. They skipped lunch unintentionally, all too focussed on one another, on talking and listening or just sitting in comfortable silence together.

Gladio uses the opportunity to go fetch some more wood for the slowly dwindling fire and Umbra chases after him, barking excitedly. Pryna merely deems the scene worthy of a yawn and curls up more tightly in Noctis’s lap, napping some more. Carbuncle has settled around Prompto’s shoulders at some point during the day and its warm body is a welcome shield against the coolness that seeps into his clothes from the dying sunlight.

It seems like a good moment, Prompto muses as he casts another glance at his friend, who is somewhat sleepily staring off into the fire in front of him, one hand idly petting Pryna, while the other supports his head in a lazy gesture. As if noticing the other’s gaze, his eyes flit over to Prompto and the blonde cannot help but blush lightly. He manages not to tear his eyes away immediately and it earns him a soft smile from Noctis that he returns.

The unspoken questions hang between them, unasked and unanswered. They have tiptoed around the subject of how Noctis returned the whole day and Prompto can see the other’s curiosity clearly in his eyes. Ignis and Gladio made it clear that this was Prompto’s story to tell, as it was him, who had been put on this path. And he has told this story several times now, but somehow, there is a huge difference between telling Cor or Ignis and Gladio and a magically revived Noctis.

_But there should not be_ , Prompto thinks and tries to relax. Next to him, Noctis makes a quiet sound of inquiry and grabs his hand to thread their fingers together. Suddenly, he is completely alert, a silent but supportive presence, so different from the Noctis Prompto remembers, yet exactly the same.

The first sentences are spoken haltingly. The blonde does not know where to begin, how much information Noctis needs to understand the tale, but the other never once interrupts him. His thumb traces over the back of Prompto’s hand, so tenderly it puts tears into his eyes just from the gesture alone. It is enough to make him go on, to know Noct is here, next to him, _alive_ and breathing.

“Eos, huh…” is all Noctis says once Prompto is exhausted and finished. They sit closer now, in one chair instead of two pulled closely together and Noct has his arm wrapped around the blonde’s waist, while Prompto is curled around him like a leech. Carbuncle and Pryna are awake now, a happily jumbled mess of limbs and fur in both their laps. Noct’s face is relaxed, not at all disbelieving, but full of fondness.

“Yeah,” Prompto’s voice is as raspy and tired as he feels. “You know her?”

“I… met her. Shortly before you brought the crystal here.” he answers, his fingers still playing absentmindedly with Prompto’s, causing shivers to run up and down the other’s body. “She thanked me, for saving her, for saving the planet, I think… I remember the feeling of overwhelming gratitude, but sadness, so much sadness. But also hope, beautiful, endlessly shining hope. The next thing I knew was waking up with the dogs all over me.”

Prompto knows the feelings he describes, they are the same he felt after parting with Eos on Ravatogh. The sadness of witnessing a thousand, a million lives wither and die, of experiencing death and doom, unable to act, unable to protect, seeing her love sacrifice himself. He is glad that she has returned now, if not for the planet, at least for her own sake.

They are quiet for a spell, bathing in each other’s presence, before the blonde speaks up again. “I met Luna in front of the grave.” he starts with a quivering voice. “I mean… her ghost.”

“She told me she wanted to speak to you before she faded.” Noctis answers and his voice is heavy with grief. “She… was ready to move on, where ever that path leads her.”

“And you were not?” It is the question that has been bouncing around Prompto’s head all day now. As he understands it, had Noctis not been willing to return to life, it would not have worked. Eos granted him his life because he wanted it back. Because anything else felt wrong.

Noctis is quiet at first, staring unseeingly into the fire, so long that Prompto is sure he will not answer. And that is fine. They have time now, again, not eternity, but the luxury to take things at their own pace.

“There are things I… things, I left unsaid, when alive. Moments that did not occur, right times that never came. Decisions and opportunities, I did not take. And that would be fine, but… I could not leave you behind. You and Ignis and Gladio. I…” he halts, his embrace tightens. “It’s selfish. I have been selfish most of my life, but…”

“You are not.” Prompto cuts in with vehemence and sits up. Noctis’s words cut deep.

“Prom.”

“No. Oh god, Noct, you endangered your _life_ to save the astrals and this planet, numerous times, in the end you _sacrificed_ …”

“It was my destiny, my duty as the King of Light.” he replies helplessly as if Prompto does not get it, but the blonde is not fazed, not the slightest.

“So? You could’ve said fuck it. Fuck the astrals and their prophecy and their squabble. Fuck the planet, fuck the Starscourge.”

“Language, Prompto.” Ignis’s cultured voice drifts over to them from where he is busily chopping vegetables and meat and the pan is sizzling. Prompto flushes, just now remembering Iggy is nearby and Gladio will surely soon return.

Beneath him, Noctis shakes and when the blonde turns his head to look, he seems him barely containing his laughter, his eyes shining with mirth.

“I’m not sure the astrals approve of your choice of language either, Prom.” he chuckles good-naturedly.

“I don’t really care.” Prompto answers and falls back against his friend, happily bathing in the vibrations his laughter sends through his entire body. “For all I care they can go fuck themselves.”

Ignis sighs and obviously gives up on him. Noctis merely laughs some more.

“One of them brought me back you know?” he tries again, but there is so much mirth in his voice, Prompto knows he is not seriously trying to defend them.

“Yeah, and six worked on getting you killed. I dunno, they screwed their chances with me.”

“Their loss.” Noct says and that is that.

∞

When Noctis wakes up, heart racing and body clammy with sweat and rigid with fear, Prompto is by his side, cuddled close. His eyes are open and stare at him through the darkness. His hand is stroking calmly over Noct’s chest, where his heart rate is slowly returning to normal.

It was a nightmare, one of the many he will surely face for the rest of his life now. But the terror leaves him as he basks in the safety of their tent, with Gladio snoring next to him, Ignis on Prompto’s side, breathing softly into the cushions. But Noct’s gaze is on Prompto alone, who offers up a smile and asks no questions. None needed. Prompto surely looks like he did not even try to sleep, tired and exhausted, and Noctis cannot help but catch him in an embrace.

“You alright?” the blonde asks quietly as not to wake the others. The other merely nods and buries his face in Prompto’s neck. He is warm and safe and smells so familiar. Noctis cannot remember a time, when he felt scared while Prompto was close, ready to have his back, ready to stand up for him, ready to support him.

“Thank you, Prom. For everything.” he breathes out slowly, never leaving their tight, secure embrace. The blonde makes a questioning sound in his throat and moves to look at his friend. Noctis barely shakes his head.

“I’m grateful.” One of the many things he never truly voiced when he was younger. Prompto smiles. It is good to have his friend back, who understand him without many words needed.

“Yeah, Noct. Me too.”

∞

They stay atop of the cliff by the Lucinia Sound for five more days, living off the food Ignis excessively brought along with them in the truck. Two days in, they moved their camping site to a more secluded area, when the first visitors to the royal tomb began to appear; a normal sight nowadays, as opposed to the secluded, rather dangerous locations of the other tombs. The mausoleum of the last of the Lucis Caelum line, or the supposedly last of the line, has become a place of pilgrimage for many survivors. When they returned to the tomb that night, they found Noctis's coffin to be as impeccable and untouched as it had been before his resurrection. 

They even found a place down the cliffs to the sea, where the waves are less severe during ebb tide, leaving behind snow-white sand and the entrance to a grotto. The lake there, full of fish and other sea creatures, made Noctis’s fingers itch visibly. Prompto made a mental note to get him a fishing rod as soon as they hit a town. No matter how hilarious it is to see the older Noctis walking around in their spare clothes, he is in dire need of own clothing again.

It is Ignis, ever the voice of reason, who announces he and Gladio are needed back at the Citadel. Prompto is filled with a moment of panic at the prospect of going back to Insomnia, not only for himself, but for Noctis, who is supposed to be dead and gone and how will people react when the technically still rightful king is suddenly back? It leads to the question whether Noctis might want to be king again, to reign his father’s and forefather’s kingdom, have a queen and heirs and from that on, it is only downhill for Prompto’s thoughts.

He is surprised to hear Noctis decline their offer to accompany them back to the capital and his face betrays nothing of his motifs. Neither Gladio nor Ignis question his decision and after a nice late breakfast, they are picked up by a large SUV and the driver is very familiar.

For a fleeting moment, Noctis cannot seem to decide whether he wants to remain in place or run over to Cor, who gets out of the driver’s seat, and hug him closely. The decision is not in his hands, however, because it is Cor that strides right up to him, bows before him and then catches him in a bear hug that resembles one of Gladio’s infamous hugs. Their reunion is less tearful, but no less emotional, especially for a man as stoic as Cor normally is.

They all agree on keeping the news of Noctis’s revival to themselves for the time being. Cor hands Prompto and Noctis the keys to the car that is packed with supplies for camping, some money to get them through at least for a few weeks and a mobile phone, ordering the dark-haired man to call to let them all know they are not in trouble. In the happiness of the moment, Prompto forgets to be indignant about that assumption.

Both Gladio and Ignis remain strangely quiet throughout the whole scene, but they both wear that face, slightly on the upset side of things, that tells Prompto and Noctis that something is up. Before anyone can question it though, Cor merely sighs heavily.

“By the six, just stay with them.” he says, but his expression is soft and fond. “I’ll sort things out with the Lucian officials.”

“But…” Ignis starts to protest, yet Gladio’s heavy hand on his shoulder silences him effectively.

“Thank you, Cor.” The other says and it is heartfelt.

“I made sure to have the car stocked extra. Not even you two are this duty-bound.” he says offhandedly and shrugs. Ignis just sighs and all the tension that has accumulated in his posture leaves him with the exhale. It is then that Prompto notices just how much of a burden their friends were carrying. He is glad that they walk this path a little longer together.

Cor takes his leave shortly after and the four remaining men agree to visit, or at least meet him somewhere in the near future. The car grows smaller and smaller in the distance, a mere dot before it disappears on the horizon, the capital looming there, large and bright and beautiful.

“So, any idea where you wanna go?” Noctis asks after a few moments of silence. “We can kinda… go where we want now.”

Gladio laughs loudly. “No astrals or prophecies, no Niffs, no war. This time, we do the road trip right.” It sounds almost too good to be true.

“And by right, I assume you mean more camping.” Ignis states on a dry note, already turning to check the SUV and take stock of their supplies. Gladio sputters indignantly and follows him, surely already going into detail about all the positive sides of camping.

Prompto and Noctis stay behind and watch them bicker. They seem so much younger, Prompto muses, less serious and less weighed down by their duties and obligations. He is suddenly struck with the revelation that Noctis, Gladio and Ignis are, for the first time, experiencing true freedom. Nobody judges their steps, now. It must be an exhilarating feeling.

Noctis nudges him from his thoughts and tilts his head in question. His long, shaggy hair falls over his eyes, only to be ruled in a second later by the sweep of his hand. Prompto laughs and grins. “Perhaps, we should go see a hairdresser first, before we go anywhere else.”

The other harrumphs playfully and shoves his giggling friend, which makes his hair obscure his vision yet again and Prompto knows he has won.

∞

They did not end up looking for a hairdresser because Noctis felt too nervous about entering a town large enough to have one, especially this close to the capital, where people might actually recognise him. Instead Ignis volunteered to do the honours and it is late afternoon, when their friend can properly see again, his vision and face cleared from annoying hair.

He finds Prompto sitting at the edge of the cliff, his legs dangling precariously over the rocks as he stares off into the distance. Noctis is startled with the similarity of this situation and one that they had years back, when Prompto was also raw and unsure. Back then, when his biggest fear seemed to be Noctis’s disapproval and rejection. _Maybe it still is_ , he thinks sadly, as he sits down next to his friend.

“I still can’t believe it…” Prompto says over the roaring of the waves beneath them.

“Yeah… it’s kinda crazy. All of this. I mean, it was before, but…”

“The good kind of crazy, man. Finally.” There is that sunny, warm, beautiful, happy, light-hearted smile that Noctis missed so much because after Altissia, after losing Luna, almost losing Ignis, when they all realised there was probably no coming back as heroes, no coming back from this adventure; reality wiped that smile off the blonde’s face and seeing it back now, it warms Noctis’s heart more than seeing the dawn again and rescuing a whole planet.

It is selfish; he is selfish, he still thinks so. Being unable to accept his death, his passing because he wanted to see his friends again, because he wanted to speak and laugh and cry with them again. Because he gave the world everything and it gave nothing back.

But now, this moment. It feels like absolution and tastes of freedom and smells like bliss, pure and simple. Back with them, back with Prompto, who filled his life with so much meaning without realising. The stony grip around Noctis’s heart loosen gradually; it will be years before it is truly gone, but it is a start.

“Yeah.” He leans against Prompto then, just his head and his shoulder, simple, brotherly, but so much more.

He hopes he can express it someday, his gratitude, his affection… but until then, they have been gifted some more precious time. And feeling Prompto lean his head against his in return, hearing Gladio and Ignis, the dogs and Carbuncle behind them, it makes all they have endured worth it.

“I’m glad you are back, Noctis.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I'd be happy about your feedback and thoughts.  
> If you found any errors or others things worth correcting, please let me know. (Since I still have no Beta, I depend solely on you guys!)


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